


Instant FamILY

by bold_inked_myths



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Adoption, Angst, Child!Sides, Dadton, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Grief, Hopefully some fluff later after I set up the plot, Human AU, I think?, I'm Sorry, I'm very new at this, Implied/Reference of Child Abandonment, Implied/Referenced Past Burn Injuries, Implied/Referenced Past Death of a Child, M/M, Mild Language, Moceit - Freeform, Moceit angst, Patton has depression, Slow Burn, Virgil Logan and the twins are children, Virgil as a big brother, Warning for Description of Burn Scars, Yeah Janus' scales are burn scars now, family rejection, momceit, no beta we die like men, ongoing fic, switching POVs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:40:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 25,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24597649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bold_inked_myths/pseuds/bold_inked_myths
Summary: Janus has spent the past five years trying to forget. Forget his scars, forget the loss, and forget his ex-husband, Patton. But when an unexpected family tragedy leaves him with four nephews to care for, Janus needs help, and has to put aside his issues and move back in with Patton. The six of them are all grieving in different ways, but somehow, they have to be a family.
Relationships: Deceit | Janus Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders
Comments: 127
Kudos: 331





	1. Janus

**Author's Note:**

> Janus
> 
> This is literally my first fanfic, and I've only started reading fanfiction about a week ago. I do not know what I'm doing, so there will definitely be mistakes. I'm pretty sure this isn't the most original idea, but I was possessed by it and it wouldn't leave me alone. I made an AO3 account just to shut it up. Anyways, I hope this will be an ongoing fic with switching POVs. I'm open to suggestions, so if you have one, pop on over to my tumblr (same username) and hit my ask box.

Someone was knocking on Janus’ door. 

He groaned, turning to stare blearily at the digital clock beside his bed. 

“Noon? Really?” he said, his voice thick with sleep. 

He slid deeper into the duvet, savoring the warmth. It was probably just another delivery. Although, he couldn’t remember what he’d ordered. And they usually didn’t knock.

The knocking came again, the persistent rapping filling his small apartment. 

“Goddammit” Janus growled. He was going to have to answer. Something in his chest seized, but he ignored it. It was just one interaction. There was no reason to get worked up. It was fine. He was fine.

Janus pulled on a t-shirt that he pretended wasn’t stained as he slunk towards the front door. His apartment was dark, the noon light barely creeping past the tightly drawn front curtains. He ran a hand through his bed-hair, trying to appear presentable. Not that it mattered. There was only one thing his visitor would notice about him, anyway. 

Spotting some leftovers from the night before, Janus snagged a bite of room-temperature pizza, chewing thoughtfully as he peered through the peephole. A woman stood on his front stoop, peering around the apartment complex as if sizing it up for something. She was dressed business casual, clearly here as part of her job, whatever that was. Not a delivery person, then. Janus raised an eyebrow.

He undid the deadbolt, but kept the chain clasped as he pulled open the door. He was careful to keep his face hidden as he addressed her. 

“Can I help you?” he asked.

“Yes, are you Janus Sanders?” she said, a polite smile appearing on her face. 

Janus shut the door, yanking off the chain and pulling the door open completely, letting her get a full look at him. 

Her smile faltered as she took in his full profile, but she recovered quickly. He leaned lazily against the doorframe.

“Sorry, Janus is out. Who are you? I can take a message for him,” he returned her practiced smile with one of his own, one that was less customer-service-representative, and more I-can-feel-your-pity-but-it-doesn’t-bother-me-in-the-slightest.

“I’m Justine Swallows. I’m a Care Coordinator for the local Child Welfare Agency,” she held out her hand for a handshake. Janus did not take it.

Justine withdrew awkwardly, brushing her hands down her brown skirt. Janus noted, with more than a little amusement, that she rather resembled a school secretary, with her neutral-toned pantyhose, sensible shoes, and an air of helpfulness. 

“It’s a rather sensitive issue, so I can’t discuss it with you, unfortunately. Here,” she rummaged through a small purse, pulling out a card. 

“When Mr. Sanders returns, tell him to give the Agency a call,” she leaned in secretively, as if anybody else was around to eavesdrop. “It’s a family issue.”

She straightened, giving a final smile that Janus was sure she thought was comforting. “Have a good day, Mister…” she trailed off, waiting for Janus to supply a name. He did not. Justine nodded hesitantly, then turned and walked away, back towards a nondescript company car.

Janus watched her go for a bit, spinning the business card in his fingers, a difficult task due to the scar tissue Ms. Swallows had so politely ignored. A family issue? He frowned. Janus hadn’t talked to his family in years. 

And why would this issue involve CPS? 


	2. Janus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Janus has to make a decision. Some hints of a backstory.

Janus was sitting on the couch, staring at a slice of pizza he swore he was going to eat. The business card lay, as if forgotten, on the corner of the coffee table. It was not forgotten at all. Quite the opposite.

Something twisted in the pit of Janus’ stomach. He would not acknowledge it. Whatever drama his family had concocted this time, he would not rise to the bait, no matter how many social workers they sent to harass him. He’d left that toxic mess of a family behind long ago, and had no intention of returning. 

Still, curiosity gnawed at him. He had intentionally placed the business card on his bad eye’s side, so he wouldn’t have to look at it. Despite this, he could almost see the embossed name and phone number in his mind. 

Janus’ family had made little effort to contact him after he left. Certainly, luring him in with a “family issue” wasn’t beyond them, but it had been so long. He had always thought they’d been relieved when he left. Why reach out now, especially with such underhanded tactics? 

A fly buzzed around his pizza, snapping him out of his thoughts. He waved it away, resolving to leave the “issue” behind, and maybe get some work done. His work always comforted him, and just the thought of it was already undoing the knot in his stomach. 

Janus loved snakes. All sorts of snakes, from the garter snakes he used to catch and terrorize his brother with as a child, to the venomous tropical varieties he had studied in college, and even the constricting python he had owned for years before its death, Mr. Longfellow.

He booted up his laptop, waiting for the icons on the screen to appear. Nowadays, he had no snakes to share his apartment with. The one time he brought it up to his landlord, the man had visibly paled, and quickly threatened to raise his rent. Janus didn’t need that kind of trouble, and he told himself that he was quite happy simply writing about snakes for a small hobby magazine instead. It was better that way, he convinced himself. This job allowed him to stay inside as much as possible, and avoid the hostile stares of strangers. Not that he cared about that, of course. 

Pulling up a new document, he began outlining a simple article about the proper care of  _ P. guttatus _ , or the humble corn snake. He could write this in his sleep, having had several corn snakes of his own over the years. 

In fact, maybe it was too simple. Janus’ mind kept drifting, thinking about Justine Swallows and the card. Last time he checked, there were no children in the Sanders family, not since he himself had hit eighteen. Now that he thought about it, though, hadn’t his brother’s wife been pregnant when he’d walked out? Janus couldn’t remember. 

It had been years. His brother could have a kid by now. Hell, Janus had briefly had a kid, hadn’t he? 

The thought hit him harder than it should have. That part of his life had been over for five years now. There was no point in dwelling, and he was over it. Over it, just like Patton. 

He shut his laptop in frustration. One little unexpected visitor, and every bad memory was slinking back to the surface of his mind. He snatched the card, picked up his cellphone, and angrily punched in the number. 

One way or another, he would put this "issue" to rest.


	3. Janus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Janus learns the truth, and knows his life is going to have to change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise I'll actually start switching POVs soon. Patton is next.

**The Next Day**

Janus was sitting in his disheveled car, parked outside the Welfare Agency. He was wearing proper pants for the first time in weeks. And he was fighting back a wave of fear, so dense it felt like a vise around his throat.

He hadn’t slept well last night, hadn’t eaten since the call. 

_ “We’re reaching out on behalf of your nephews, Mr. Sanders,” she said. _

Apparently, his brothers’ wife, Cynthia, had indeed been pregnant, when he’d walked out on his family almost fifteen years ago. And she had been pregnant a few times after that, too. 

_ “What nephews?” Janus asked, his mouth drying. _

_ “Your brother, Horace Sanders? His sons? You’re our last resort,” Justine told him. _

He still held out hope that this was some sort of trick, a gotcha set up by his family. Surely, if something had happened to Horace, something that kept him from taking care of his kids, someone would have told Janus. Surely. 

Janus hadn’t had the courage to ask Justine what she meant, or what had happened. He simply sat numbly, allowing her to schedule a meeting for the next day. The spiraling worries had kept him up for the rest of the night, and left an acidic feeling in his stomach that wouldn’t allow him to eat. 

Now he slouched, his head resting on the steering wheel, barely noticing the occasional pine cone bouncing off the peeling hood of his car. An overwhelming sense of suffocation was coming over him, like he was snake overdue for molting. 

He dearly, dearly hoped this was a cruel joke, and the only way to confirm it, was to confront it. Janus straightened reluctantly, pulling his black beanie farther down his head. If he had to be a part of a charade, he was going to handle it with grace, goddamit.

* * *

The confidence had evaporated by the time Janus made it to the front desk. The man behind it pointed him down the hall and to the left, into a rundown but cozy office, occupied by Justine Swallows. Stacks of teetering paperwork perched on corners, and water stains decorated the ceiling. Even so, there was a pleasantly stale scent of lavender cutting through the mustiness, and corny desk toys standing steadfast against the towers of paper.

“Mr. Sanders?” Justine looked up when he walked in. She gave him a quizzical look. “But yesterday, you said--”

“I lied,” he cut in.

“Oh. Okay, then. Well, I’m glad you agreed to come. Please, take a seat,” Justine gestured to a clearly second-hand armchair in the corner. He awkwardly arranged himself into the sagging cushions. 

“Ms. Swallows. I’d like to cut to the chase, please. Why am I here?”

Justine bit her lip, and proceeded cautiously. 

“Well, I’m sure you understand...your nephews are in a great deal of need. They’ve had a tough year, and we wouldn’t come to you if we hadn’t run out of options--” 

Janus waved a hand, silencing her. A lump formed in his throat, but he fought past it to get his question out. 

“Why can’t Horace take care of them? What’s happened to my brother?”

She looked taken aback, as if Janus had asked about Santa. As if the answer should’ve been obvious. 

“Mr. Sanders, I’m sorry. I thought you knew,” she said.

Something deep inside Janus buckled.

“What happened?” he rasped. Not Horace. Not the only tolerable member of his family. Not the brother who had taught him how to climb a tree, who had defended Janus against their parents, who had bought him his first snake. 

“About a year ago, Horace and Cynthia Sanders were in a car accident. A drunk driver. They didn’t survive. I’m sorry,” she said.

There it was. Horace and his wife, both dead. Nobody had bothered to tell him, let alone invite him to the funeral. Janus wondered briefly where his brother was buried. His emotions seemed distant, slithering out of reach in the corners of his mind. He didn’t try to grab them. 

Justine had kept speaking, and he clung to that, trying to understand what she was saying, so he could ignore the numbness taking over his legs. 

“They were survived by their four sons, Virgil, Logan, Roman, and Remus,” she said.

“I didn’t know he had kids. I haven’t talked with my family in a while,” he forced the words out, any words at all, grasping for his usual cocksure attitude. “They were assholes,” he added.

Justine nodded, seemingly ignoring that last part. 

“That explains why it took us so long to find you. We didn’t even realize you were an option until your parents mentioned you,” she said.

Janus chuckled darkly. In the end, his parents had dragged him into some bullshit. Just not the bullshit he expected.

“An option? What do you mean?” he asked.

Justine sighed, lacing her hands together. “Like I said, your nephews have had a tough year. We tried placing them within the family, but that hasn’t worked well. Various foster parents have fallen through. It’s up to you.”

Janus raised his eyebrows, covering the dagger of panic that struck him with an bemused expression.

“Up to me? I’m not exactly in the position to take on, what, four kids?” he said. 

He reflected on his one-bedroom apartment, strewn with dirty clothes and torn notebooks. His junker car, with faded upholstery and an engine that made worrying noise when it was cold outside. The only thing he had in his fridge at the moment was wine and leftover casserole. Way leftover. He made a mental note to throw that out when he got back. 

Janus could function well by himself, but he didn’t have the resources for four kids, let alone the space. 

A flickering feeling lit in his chest. These weren’t just any kids, though. These were Horace’s children. Family. Didn’t he owe his brothers, and them, at least a try?

“Janus,” Justine said. He looked at her, locking eyes.

“At this point, we either place the boys with you, or we have to separate them and send them to various group homes. It really is up to you, and you alone,” she said. 

He already knew what his answer would be. How he would make it happen, though, was a different answer entirely. He leaned back, rubbing his palms down his face, and feeling the scar tissue. A shiver sped down his spine. Thomas. 

Janus stilled, a half-formed and very bad idea coming to him. He looked at Justine, and nodded. 

“Let me make a call.”


	4. Patton

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patton gets an unexpected phone call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild warning in this chapter for depression, specifically symptoms of depression
> 
> Thank you to everyone who left kudos and comments so far. Made my week.

Patton’s cell phone was ringing. He knew he should answer it, but he couldn’t bring himself to crawl out from under his duvet. He was hungry, too. He needed to shower. Needed to change out of his flannel pajamas. It had been hours since he'd woken up and still, Patton couldn’t stir. His phone kept ringing.

It had been like this for a while now. Patton was able to hold things together on the weekdays, appear put-together and enthusiastic for his coworkers and young students. But in the evenings, on weekends, it was like all the energy he had mustered to stay upright just snapped, and he would collapse into a listlessness that made it difficult to even take care of himself. 

He was fine, though. Everything was fine. 

His phone fell silent, but only for a moment. The upbeat ringtone returned, and Patton sat up, pulling a sheet around his shoulders. He peek ed at the lock screen, and his heart jumped. 

An old picture of his ex-husband greeted him. Janus was staring into the camera with a relaxed, self assured smile, his legs crossed on a stump that had been in the backyard of the house he and Patton once shared. It was one of the few times Patton had convinced him to come out and work in the garden with him, and Janus was in dirt-stained jeans, with oversized yellow gardening gloves over his hands. It was difficult to see in the photo, but Patton remembered the streak of soil on Janus’ face that had adorably accentuated his cheekbones. 

It had been ages since he’d seen this photo, the one he eventually chose for Janus’ contact. Patton was so mesmerized by it, that he accidentally let the call go to voicemail. 

“Oh no no, wait--” he fumbled with the phone, trying to redial. He didn’t need to. For the third time, Patton’s phone rang with Janus’ number, and this time he finally answered.

“Janus? Is that you, are you okay?” he asked, surprised at the tightness in this throat.

“Hey, Patton,” Janus said. The sound of this voice sent something inside Patton scurrying. 

“I’m sorry to call you out of the blue like this, but...well, things aren’t entirely okay. And I need your help.”

“Of course, anything! A-anything you need, I mean,” Patton cringed at his needy tone. 

“You still have that house your grandparents left you?”Janus asked. Patton looked around his room, which was in a rather embarrassing state, but spacious nonetheless. The rest of the house was similar, full of far too many empty bedrooms, and in bad need of vacuuming. 

“Yeah, why?”

Janus was silent for a moment. Patton knew to give him space.

“Something’s come up. My brother...Horace,” Janus' voice cracked, just slightly, and Patton’s heart cracked with it. 

“Are you okay?” Patton asked again, softer this time. 

“I’m fine,” Janus said abruptly, his tone hardening. Patton tensed. 

“Sorry, it’s just--something happened to Horace, and...” Janus’ voice softened, sounding lost. “Horace had some kids, apparently. It’s come to me to take care of them, but I don’t have the space right now. I need a place to stay, just for a little while, while I pull some things together.”

“Janus--your brother, I’m so sorry--” Patton started, but Janus cut him off.

“Don’t. Not right now. Just--please. I need your help, Patton.”

Patton didn’t know where to start. His emotions, already whirling from talking to Janus for the first time since their divorce, were starting to tear at him. The listlessness that had trapped him in bed was lifting, if only for a short reprieve. Without thinking, he’d left his bed and was now pacing haphazardly around his room. 

He knew Janus had a difficult relationship with his family, but Janus always seemed begrudgingly fond of his elder brother. He’d never mentioned any nephews, though. Patton couldn’t imagine how Janus must be feeling right now, to lose someone so important to him, and be left suddenly with grieving children. 

A pang rippled through him. Patton did know how it felt to lose someone close to him. It was a loss he and Janus shared, the loss that ultimately drove them apart. And Patton knew that with these kids suddenly appearing on Janus’ doorstep, Janus would be reminded of that loss. He wrapped an arm around himself.

“Of course you guys can stay. I’d love to meet them,” he caught sight of a particularly nasty plate perched on his bedside table. “Give me some time to, uh, tidy up, though, okay?”

“Thank you so much, I really appreciate it,” Janus said, and Patton could almost feel his relief through the phone. “It’ll be temporary, I promise.”

“Of course. Stay as long as you need,” Patton said softly.


	5. Virgil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil and his brothers meet their uncle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really like how this came out. Warning for descriptions of burn scars. After this, I think I'll drop the updates down to weekly.

**One week later**

Virgil fidgeted in, trying to find comfort in the lobby chairs of the Welfare Agency. He badly wanted to pull up his hood, slip on his headphones, and lose himself in some music, but he needed to stay alert. And of course, keep an eye on his younger brothers. 

Even they were unusually subdued, though. Logan sat to his left, his posture perfect as he read from a thick book, something about minerals. Roman and Remus were to his right, with their heads together, seemingly absorbed in their scraps of paper. 

Virgil knew his brothers better than that, though. Logan kept absentmindedly pulling at his tie, giving away how distracted he was. The very fact that the twins were so quiet was disturbing enough, but the way Roman’s origami kept turning out crumpled, while Remus morosely tore each mangled paper crane to pieces, was enough for Virgil to know they were feeling it too. 

So, even though Virgil could feel his breath coming short, he gave no indication. He would hold it together for his brothers, just like he had from the very beginning.

He wasn’t even sure why he was so nervous. It wasn’t like this shuffle of foster homes was anything new. The four of them had done it almost a dozen times since this nightmare of a year began. 

This new guy wouldn’t last long, anyway. A random uncle out of nowhere? Totally not suspicious. He gave it a month, tops. 

With that thought, a sinking feeling gripped him. No matter how much Virgil tried to ignore it, he knew he and his siblings were running out of chances. Ms. Swallows had already pulled all the strings she could to keep the Sanders boys together for this long. If Uncle Whatever didn’t pull through, Virgil knew it could be over for them. 

He would not let that happen. No matter what.

Ms. Swallows appeared, with her usual overly encouraging smile. 

“All right boys, follow me to the Meeting Room. Your uncle’s here to take you,” she said.

Virgil hated the Meeting Room, with its poorly painted mural and fake promises, but he motioned to his brothers and followed her anyway. With each step, his nerves jangled more and more violently, so that by the time the five of them reached the Meeting Room, his hands were visibly shaking. He stuffed them in the pockets of his hoodie.

Ms. Swallows ushered the boys inside, and despite Virgil’s misgivings, he prepared himself to meet his uncle. 

The man was standing at the far end of the room, arms crossed, examining the mural of doe-eyed teddy bears and an off-color rainbow. Hearing the group enter, he turned to greet them.

Virgil was taken aback. The man wasn’t too remarkable; he looked to be in his early thirties, tall and wiry, wearing a black beanie, a yellow button-up shirt with a blazer, and dark blue jeans tucked into soft leather boots. It was his features, or rather, one feature, that briefly stole the defenses Virgil had erected.

The man was scarred, badly. It looked as if someone had once pushed him into a bonfire. The entire right side of his face was discolored and warped, and seemed stiff. His right eye was misshapen, and Virgil doubted he could even see out of it. The burns continued in patchwork down his neck and collarbone, disappearing under his shirt. 

Virgil quickly tore his eyes away, not wanting to be rude. Despite the doubts he still had, he ached with sympathy. Nobody deserved the pain this man must have gone through.

His uncle stepped forward, and Virgil turned to him again, this time meeting his gaze. The man’s posture and quirk of the mouth suggested indifference, but Virgil thought he could see a hint of uncertainty, even shyness, in his eyes. 

Ms. Swallows, who had been watching the scene with the investment of a stockbroker on the floor, jumped in.

“Boys, this is your Uncle Janus. He’ll be taking care of you now,” she said cheerily. The man twitched.

“Just Janus, for now please,” he said, shifting his weight. 

“Janice? That’s a girl’s name,” Roman wrinkled his nose. Before Virgil could scold him, Janus sighed.

“JanUS. J-A-N-U-S,” he said this tiredly, as if he’d explained it many times before. “Ancient god of transitions and whatnot. My parents--your grandparents, I suppose--had a tradition when it came to Roman names.”

Virgil tugged nervously on the strings of his jacket. Janus didn’t seem friendly, but then, few of their foster parents had. 

“My name’s Virgil. This is Logan, and those are the twins, Remus and Roman,” he kept his gaze locked with Janus’, eyes narrowed, assessing. Janus raised an eyebrow.

“A tradition Horace continued with you, it seems.”

A silence fell, not quite awkward, but not quite hostile either. Virgil continued his staring contest with Janus, who almost seemed to be enjoying it. Or maybe he was just amused by it. 

But, like with all good silences, one of the twins piped up to ruin it.

“What happened to your face?” Remus asked, grinning like the little goblin he was.

“Remus!” Virgil hissed.

“Right,” Janus drawled, breaking his gaze with Virgil.

“Okay!” Ms. Swallows clapped her hands together. “Boys, go grab your bags. Janus, I need you to sign a paper or two, all right?”

* * *

Twenty minutes later, their bags were in the trunk, and the five of them were in a pathetic-looking car, heading towards their ‘new home’. Virgil was stuck in the passenger seat, letting the silence between him and Janus get icier and icier. When he couldn’t take it anymore, he decided he could at least find out where the guy was taking them.

“Where do you live?” Virgil asked. Janus side-eyed him as he pulled into a turning lane.

“How old are all of you?” he replied.

“I asked first.”

Janus laughed humorlessly. “Fair enough. I live in an apartment about 45 minutes from here. I don’t have room for you all there, so for now we’re going to stay with an old friend of mine.”

Virgil thought this answer over. “Who’s the friend?”

“Now, now. We had a deal. Your ages?”

Virgil huffed. “I’m fourteen. Logan’s--”

“I’m eleven,” Logan cut in quietly. 

“And the twins are seven,” Virgil finished. 

Janus nodded, his eyes fixed on the road. His jaw was tight, as if he too were carefully mulling Virgil’s answer over.

“My friend’s name is Patton,” he said. He didn’t offer any other information.

Silence again. Getting answers out of this guy was like pulling teeth.

“So...uncle, huh? Dad didn't talk about you much.”

Janus’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. Virgil noticed that his right hand was burned as well, with the same stiffness, and his middle and ring fingers fused together.

“Yeah, well, we didn’t have the best relationship. And I hated my parents. No offense,” he added quickly, as if he suddenly realized Virgil might have a different opinion of them. 

“None taken. Not a fan of them, either,” he said, remembering how quickly they’d turned their backs on him and his brothers. The first of many failed foster families. 

Virgil desperately hoped there wouldn’t be any more.


	6. Janus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All our boys are together now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kind of regret not doing this chapter from Patton's POV, but eh. Mild warning for a brief mention of pain medication (used in a controlled medical context).

Janus tried not to examine the boys too closely. It was painful, how much they resembled Horace. Especially Virgil. 

There were small differences, though, which he could pick out easily, despite not seeing his brother for fifteen years. The twins had inherited his curls, but the boys stuck so close to each other, theirs seemed to entwine to become one head of hair. Logan’s eyes were green, like Horace’s, but unlike Horace, his were uncomfortably analytical, instead of mirthful. Of course, what else could Janus expect from an eleven year old who wore a necktie? 

And then there was Virgil, who could have been Horace’s teenaged twin. The only obvious difference was his dyed purple hair. But other differences were obvious to Janus, even more obvious than the other boys' differences. Horace had always been confident, charismatic, even rakish. Virgil, from the way he slouched in the passenger seat and the guarded conversation they’d just had, seemed to be the exact opposite.

A pang of betrayal hit Janus. He didn’t want to admit it, but Virgil saying how Horace never talked about him had been like a punch to the stomach. Horace had these kids, raised them, and apparently never gave Janus another thought, let alone told him about it. Like always, Horace had left him behind. 

Janus knew it was irrational to think this way. After all, he’d made it clear to everyone when he’d left that he didn’t want any further contact with them. His brother had simply respected that. And it wasn’t like Janus had told him about Thomas, either. 

He was relieved when Patton’s Victorian house, with its small turret and wrap-around porch, loomed into view. The silence in the car was getting positively glacial, and Janus had no clue how to talk to children, let alone these children. With every passing second, he was becoming more grateful Patton had agreed to let them stay. More grateful Patton would be there.

Janus didn’t think too hard about what that meant. Pulling up to the curb, he turned to the boys. 

“We’re here,” he said, taking the keys out of the ignition.

“It’s like a castle,” one of the twins breathed (Roman, he remembered; the one with the Frozen t-shirt and light-up sneakers). 

“It’s only temporary,” Janus reminded them. Reminded himself. 

He was going to see Patton again, for the first time in years. The first time since their divorce. He felt like he did as a child, when he had sworn he was going to run away forever, only to show up on the doorstep three hours later, hungry for dinner. 

A part of him, though, had lit up when he’d heard Patton’s voice over the phone, and ached to talk to him again. A part of him was overjoyed that in a few moments, he would get to see his freckled, beaming face again.

Janus didn’t think too hard about what that meant, either. 

Virgil was already out of the car, helping the twins out of the backseat. Logan barely flinched when Remus (dirty corduroy overalls and rain boots depicting cartoon squids), flailing, kicked him on the way out. When they’d finally managed an exit, Janus joined them, and the group approached the porch.

Upon reaching the door, Janus knocked, his fingers numb. The sound of approaching footsteps made his stomach swoop. Patton flung the door open, all warm smiles and the scent of snickerdoodles. Janus’ heart rose against his will. 

“Hey! You made it. Come in, come in,” Patton practically pulled them inside. Janus noted that he was still in his ‘teacher clothes’, which were a brightly colored polo shirt and khakis, all wrapped up in a chunky sweater. He must still work at the preschool, which was good, Janus thought. Somebody here needed to know how to talk to kids. 

“So who are the kiddos?” Patton asked the boys as they took off their shoes. 

“Logan,” Logan said, stickin out his hand. Patton took it enthusiastically.

“Hello, Logan,” he beamed, apparently ignoring the impassive expression on Logan’s face. Janus paused hanging up his blazer, figuring he could learn a few things from his ex-husband.

“This is Roman,” Remus pointed at his brother.

“And that’s Remus!” Roman said, also pointing. 

“Oh, I like both of your shoes. Cute squids and colorful lights,” Patton winked at them, and the twins giggled. Janus stared, dumbfounded.

“And what about you?” Patton turned to Virgil. “Did you do those patches on your sweater yourself? That’s really creative!”

Virgil squirmed, like he wished the sweater would swallow him. “Um. Yeah, I did, actually. Thanks. I’m Virgil.”

“It’s so great to meet all of you. I’ll bet we’ll get along great,” Patton gave them another smile, matching the one the twins already had. Hesitantly, Virgil also gave a small smile. After a moment, even Logan returned Patton’s grin, almost involuntarily. 

Unbelievable. Janus would’ve spluttered, if he wasn’t frozen in shock. In less than five minutes, Patton had made more of a headway with these kids than Janus had in an hour-long drive. 

That was Patton, though. It was one of the many reasons Janus had fallen for him.

Patton pointed towards the stairs.

“Upstairs and down the hall, there’s three spare bedrooms and a bathroom. Why don’t you all pick a room and settle in, while I set up for dinner? I made pasta!” 

“I call the tower room!” Roman shouted, sprinting up the stairs, with Remus not far behind. 

“Don’t run,” Virgil warned, pushing Logan along in front of him. 

“Patton, you didn’t have to make dinner,” Janus said, turning to him. 

“Oh, it was my pleasure. I don’t have any good reasons to cook anymore, so it was nice,” he said, waving away Janus’ concern. 

Janus smiled, sticking his hands in his pockets. Typical Patton, being the perfect host.

“Listen, thanks. For doing this,” he jerked his head vaguely at their surroundings. “And don’t worry. We’ll be out of here as soon as I have the cash.”

“Don’t worry, I’m happy to help. Stay as long as you need, okay?” He placed a reassuring hand on Janus’ shoulder, and Janus froze, hit suddenly with a wave of emotion. Patton, seeming to sense this, pulled back, biting his lip in embarrassment.

They were quiet. Janus groaned inwardly. Too many uncomfortable silences in one day for his liking. He was used to them somewhat. People always got uncomfortably quiet when they first met him, and Janus knew it was because of the scars. 

He knew Patton better than that, though. He had never done that to Janus. Not when Janus first woke up in the hospital, in a delirium of hurt, pain meds, and grief. Not during the long recovery, from the skin grafts to the multiple surgeries to save his arm, or the occupational therapy afterwards to regain limited control of the muscles in his hand and face. Patton had looked him straight in the eye, never flinched at his appearance, or hesitated to touch him. No matter how their marriage had ended, Janus would always be grateful for that.

Patton broke the silence, tentatively. 

“I don’t have any extra rooms, but there’s a nice comfy couch in the sitting room. No one ever goes in there, and there’s a door. You know, for privacy,” Patton said. “Or, or you could take my bed.”

Janus raised an eyebrow, smirking. 

“Your bed?” he asked innocently. He knew he was teasing him, but he couldn’t help himself. 

Patton blushed, a sight that made Janus’ heart flutter. Damn it, that was stupid of him.

“N-not with me in it, of course. Of course, you know that, that was implied--Um, anyways,” Patton pressed his arms into his chest. 

The boys reappeared, pouring down the stairs in a clump. Patton seemed to grasp the distraction.

“Who wants dinner? The secret ingredient is cumin,” he said, corralling everyone to the dining room.

Five minutes in, and Janus had already screwed up, flirting with his ex. What was wrong with him? He had to be out of this house as quickly as possible.


	7. Logan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan has a coping mechanism

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy belated birthday, Remus! Even though you don't appear in this chapter

Logan was enjoying having his own room for the first time since his parents’ death. Most of the foster homes barely had the space for one extra kid, let alone four of them. There had been a few unfortunate ones where he and all three of his brothers had shared a single room. Usually, though, Logan ended up sharing with Virgil, while Roman and Remus shared with each other. 

This house, thankfully, was different, with many extra rooms that seemed to serve no real purpose. Virgil had retreated to a room at the end of the hall, which was apparently an abandoned office, stocked with an empty desk and lumpy futon. The twins, who had been inseparable since the car crash, still insisted on sharing what they dubbed ‘the tower lair’. They hadn’t seemed to care that there were no beds in their lair, just a bunch of home improvement supplies, and two sleeping bags Patton had pulled out of the attic for them.

That left Logan alone in a small library, furnished with all kinds of books and one air mattress. When he had first seen it, dusty and forgotten, he didn’t even have to consider the other rooms. It felt right. It felt like home.

Now, Logan was curled up on a window seat with worn pink upholstery, cradling a book and relishing the peaceful, midnight silence. A feeling of dread kept telling him it wouldn’t last, but for now, he appreciated being able to stay up as long as he pleased, reading about the rock cycle, without Virgil bothering him. 

Logan used to sleep regularly. He knew the importance of getting to bed at the right times, and getting a healthy amount of rest. He knew about REM and melatonin. But he could not make himself stick to a healthy schedule anymore, not since the funeral. 

That was okay, Logan concluded. He could use the extra night hours to learn more things. When he was learning, he did not have to think about other, useless things. Especially upsetting things. Logan saw no purpose in thinking about upsetting things, so it was best, he believed, to distract himself from those thoughts. And there was no greater and more useful distraction than learning. 

Logan pushed his black square-rimmed glasses back up the bridge of his nose, and refocused on his book. He had reached a passage about how igneous rocks became metamorphic rocks, and he wanted to soak up the information properly.

The hallway creaked with subtle footsteps. Logan paused his reading and listened carefully. Too quiet for either of the twins. It could be Virgil, but probably not. He pretended otherwise, but Logan knew that new places made Virgil nervous, and he wouldn’t be creeping around one so late at night. 

More likely it was either Janus or Patton, heading off to sleep. The two men had still been up when Logan had gone to bed, Janus trying to convince Patton to let him pay rent. 

Patton seemed nice, though that did not mean much. Plenty of the foster parents had been nice, and none of them had stuck around long. Besides, it was not Patton who was fostering; it was Janus, who did not exactly seem happy to have them here. 

Logan had to admit, though, that he was apparently willing to feed and shelter them, which were the most essential parts of parenthood. Everything else, Logan could handle on his own. If things got really bad, he always had Virgil. 

Logan was not concerned, or at least, he tried not to think about being concerned. He had learned many things in the past year, but one of the most useful things he’d learned was that if you were smart enough, and careful enough, you didn't need parents at all. There was no reason to think Janus would last any longer than the other foster homes, but that did not really matter. He and his brothers had managed, and they did not need anyone else. Not really. Those were the facts, and Logan needed them to prove true.


	8. Patton

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patton reassures Janus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't hit everything I wanted to hit in this chapter, so I guess I'll have to write that at a later date. Something for y'all to look forward to. I also might be really regretting putting this fic in third person limited POV yeesh. Warning for mild references to the death of a baby.

Patton dug through the box one more time, still hoping to find his old clothes, before giving up and pushing it aside. Behind him, Janus shut the lid of a trunk with a despondent thump.

They were in Patton’s sprawling attic, stuffed with three generations of his family’s old things. Golden afternoon light filtered through a single cobwebbed window, illuminating motes of dust thrown up into the musty air by their activities. Two floors below them, Patton could just make out the kids talking. He had pulled out an ancient video game console for them to decipher, and the last time he’d seen them, Roman had been just a few leaps away from beating Virgil’s high score on Frogger.

Across the attic, Janus leaned back on the trunk he’d been rifling through, and sat cross-legged on the floor facing Patton. 

“Nothing here, either. Are you sure your grandparents kept your old clothes?”

“They kept  _ everything _ . They liked to think that anything could become a family heirloom,” Patton smiled wistfully, momentarily awash in childhood memories of homemade strawberry jam and old family albums.

“I can always buy the kids new clothes. You know, once things are more settled,” Janus said.

Sitting there, his shoulders slumped, Janus looked small against all the unused furniture and worn cardboard boxes. Patton’s heart ached for him, and the situation he’d been unexpectedly pushed into. 

“Why don’t we take a break?” Patton suggested, crossing the room to drop down next to Janus.

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s probably a good idea. We might want to rethink this whole open-random-boxes-until-we-find-what-we’re-looking-for strategy anyway,” he said. 

Downstairs, Patton could just make out Logan and Remus bickering over something. Up there, in the attic, everything felt muted and soft, as gentle as the dust suspended in the light. Patton decided to say something risky.

“It’s nice to see you again. I know it’s only for a little while, but this big old house feels a little empty sometimes. A bit lonely, too,” Patton said, not looking at Janus. His breath hitched in his chest. 

Janus was silent for a moment, and Patton tensed, fearing he’d said too much.

“It’s nice to see you, too, Patton. I’m sorry it was so sudden,” Janus said, quietly. Patton relaxed. 

“It’s not your fault. No one could’ve predicted what was going to happen. I’m just glad you were there, at least, for the kids. It’ll be nice, for all of you I think, to not have to face the funeral alone,” Patton said.

Janus gave him a perplexed look.

“Oh!” he said, apparently realizing. “I didn’t tell you. Horace has been dead for a year. I’m guessing the funeral has long since passed.”

He looked away, staring somewhere in the distance.

“Nobody told me. Until last week, when the social worker wanted me to take his kids. Who I was also never told about,” he said, his voice flat.

Patton shifted, turning to face Janus.

“Really? I mean, I know your family isn’t great, but this is beyond that. This is...almost evil,” Patton could feel his cheeks burning, like they always did when he got worked up. He had never fully understood why Janus had been so adamant about cutting his family out of his life. He hadn’t invited them to their wedding, and hadn’t told them about Thomas. Janus didn’t even reach out to them after the accident. Now, though, Patton could see why. If this was how they reacted to a death in the family…

Janus looked at him now, and it was like the distant barrier he’d had up since arriving suddenly collapsed. He looked vulnerable, and lost. Patton locked eyes with him, and in that moment he would have done anything for Janus. Anything to make him feel safe, and bring back the clever, passionate man he remembered from their marriage.

A loud bang from downstairs startled them both out of the moment. They stilled, listening carefully. The sound of video games and sibling bickering continued, with no issue. Janus shook his head. 

“Kids will be kids, I guess” he said.

Patton nodded in agreement. Ten years of working with preschoolers had taught him many things about kids. One being that no matter how bad it sounds from the other room, as long as the kids don’t go silent, it can probably be dealt with later. 

“Hey, Janus? If Horace died so long ago, why are you just now getting the kids?” he asked, the thought just occurring to him.

“I’m not really sure,” Janus admitted, “Ms. Swallows said something about how they’d only recently discovered I existed, and how they’d tried a lot of other homes before me,” he shook his head. 

“I would bet anything my parents got tired of dealing with the situation, and decided to tell the Agency about me, just to get the problem off their plate,” he added bitterly.

“Oh, those poor kids. Losing their parents, and then having to go through all of that stress and uncertainty?” Patton’s throat tightened just thinking about it. “At least they’ve got you now,” he said.

“I don’t--I don’t know,” Janus said, crossing his arms defensively.

“What do you mean?” Patton asked, confused.

“Patton, I don’t know if I can do this,” he told him suddenly, his voice rough. “I just don’t know. What do I know about kids, really? I mean, yes, we had Thomas, but he was just a baby. We never got to raise him. These kids are way past that, with complex personalities and all this grief. I don’t know how to handle that! I can’t even handle my own issues. I don’t know how to connect with them, because my family is so shitty that I don’t even have a basic relationship with them to build off of. Hell, my parents were so horrible, odds are I’ll do those kids more harm than good anyway.” 

He was shaking now, with fear or anger, Patton couldn’t tell. He wanted to reach out to him, but held himself back, worried it would make things worse.

“And that’s not even the half of it. There’s all this logistical crap too, like the clothes, and the fact that they need proper beds. I have to find a new place, but I don’t know if I’ve got the cash for the space we need. I could get a new job, get back into herpetology, but that’ll take time and I need money now. And what about when autumn comes? School is going to be a whole different problem, and I’m not sure--”

Wordlessly, Patton pulled Janus into a fierce hug. Janus hesitated for only a moment before returning it, wrapping his arms around Patton. Patton could feel he was still shaking. 

“Listen to me: I know you can do this. I’ve known you for years, and you’ve always been able to conquer any challenge you’ve faced. Do you remember, in college, when your car broke down on the way to an interview for that super good internship? Do you remember what you did?” 

“Oh, I remember,” Janus said, and Patton could feel him relaxing, just slightly. “I jumped the metro turnstile, ran a full mile in a suit, talked my way into a free taxi ride, and when I still arrived fifteen minutes late, I gave such a good interview they brought me on anyway.”

“Exactly. The Janus I know can climb any mountain, and charm his way through a brick wall. You’ve got this,” Patton paused. “And hey. You don’t have to do this all alone. I know...I know things didn’t work out with us. But I still want to help, however I can.”

“Thanks, Patton. I think I needed that,” Janus pulled away, and gave him a grateful smile. A warm feeling lit Patton’s chest, and he felt as if he could float right up to the ceiling beams. 

He clamped down on that feeling. It was better than he felt in months, but it belonged to a part of his life that was over now. Dragging it back up might hurt him and Janus more than it was worth. He kept talking, to drown it out. 

“And in my opinion, I don’t think you’ll be a bad parent, no matter what yours were like. We only had a short time with Thomas, but during that time you were the most loving, affectionate father I’d ever seen. It was like he brought out a whole different side of you. I know you can be that for these kids, too,” Patton said. 

Janus gave him one last look, full of equal parts hope and weariness. Sunbeams shone through his ruffled hair, lighting it up in a golden halo. Patton could hold onto that image forever. 

“Somehow, you always have all the answers,” he said, an odd hint of worry in his tone. Patton chose to leave it be. 

  
  
  



	9. Remus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus has an argument. Worms make a guest appearance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, wow, this hurt to write way more than I was planning. Much more angst than I thought there'd be. My characterization of child!Remus is like those kids who say really unnerving things because they know it freaks out the grown-ups, but they don't actually understand the implications of their words. But Remus is just like that all the time. Warning for descriptions of body horror/gore (it's Remus that was inevitable).

Remus squirmed in his sleeping bag, imagining he was a giant slimy worm. He crawled over mountainous dirt clods, and dodged fearsome birds at every turn. He was every gardener’s worst nightmare, and slept deep under the moist ground, in the dark and dirt. 

Right now, though, he wasn’t underground. In fact, Remus the Worm was the opposite of underground. He reared up, pretending the rustle of the sleeping bag was actually the sound of his slithering, and surveyed his tower lair. 

The big windows behind him let in just a little bit of yellow light from the streetlamps below. Remus couldn’t make out much except shapes, but there wasn’t much to see anyways. The floors were rippled wood, the ceiling high (and echoey, if you screamed in the right spot; Remus had fun with that when he moved in), and the soft pink walls bare. The only stuff in the lair was just his and Roman’s things, plus a few things Patton had given them. His green duffel bag, with clothes, a toothbrush, and a few toys he’d managed to save. Roman’s red duffel bag, which had mostly the same things. One lamp, plugged into the wall with a long cord, sitting on the floor between him and his brother. 

His brother. Roman was curled up in his own sleeping bag, a few feet away. Remus grinned, shimmying closer to him. He hovered over his prey for only a moment, before collapsing his full worm form on his twin.

“Ah, Remus!” Roman woke up with a shout, pushing Remus off him. 

“I am a worm, and I will eat you!” Remus declared, tackling into Roman repeatedly with his worm body. 

Roman kept pushing at him, giggling now. He pulled his own sleeping bag up to his chin, then stuck his tongue out at Remus.

“Then I’ll be a caterpillar, and I will defeat you, evil worm!” he said, and tackled Remus too. 

The two screeched with laughter as they dueled, shoving and rolling on top of each other. Remus lost track of time. They played long enough that they both ran out of breath, but not long enough to make Virgil come and tell them to quiet down. 

Eventually, Roman fell on top of Remus, going limp. Remus squirmed a little, but gave up. The boys tumbled away from each other, panting. Laying askew, they stared up at the ceiling, where it disappeared into darkness. 

“Hey, Ree?” Roman asked.

“Yeah, Ro?” Remus answered.

“What do you think happened to Mom and Dad?”

Remus stiffened. A funny, painful feeling gripped his stomach. Frantically, he searched his brain for a way to escape the conversation he knew was coming. 

“What do you mean?” he asked, settling on playing dumb.

“You know, like what do you think happened to their spirits, or souls, or whatever,” Roman said, shifting softly in the dark. 

Remus locked his jaw. He hated talking about this. After his parents died, so many people tried to tell him good things. Stuff like that they were in heaven, or reincarnated. Or that they were watching over him, or even that things would get better. It frustrated him. He felt like they couldn’t see the problem. It didn’t matter to him what happened to his parents. 

It only mattered that they weren’t here. 

“Remus?” Roman said, pulling him back to the dark room and bad conversation.

“I don’t know,” he said shortly.

“Well, what do you  _ think  _ happened?” Roman was insistent.

“They died. Duh,” Remus replied. Sometimes when he said things like that, Roman got all pouty and left him alone. 

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Roman pouted. 

“I said I don’t know. Let’s just go back to sleep,” Remus turned away and screwed his eyes shut, curling up tight. He was just going to ignore this.

Roman’s sleeping bag rustled. His brother had sat up, and he could feel his eyes on his back.

“Why do you do this? You, and Logan, and Virgil. None of you ever want to talk about them anymore,” his voice was strained with tears. “It’s like you want to pretend we never even had parents at all!” 

To his dismay, Remus discovered his own cheeks were warm and wet, too. The icky feeling turned his stomach sour, and lit a dangerous flame inside him. 

He reared up again, no longer a worm, just Remus, wounded and lashing out.

“Fine! I’ll tell you what happened to Mom and Dad. They’re ghosts, and they follow us around, all bloody and broken. In fact, they’re over in that closet right now!” Remus pointed across the room, to an empty closet. “And they’re angry at you because you won’t. Shut.  _ Up! _ ” 

Remus screamed at his brother, and it felt good, in a warped kind of way, like when he broke rules just for fun. Roman was sobbing now, but his face expression twisted in rage.

“Stop it! Just stop it! You’re lying, and anyways Virgil said we’re not supposed to tell people to shut up,” Roman clutched his ears, shaking his head. 

Part of Remus knew he should stop, but the feeling in his stomach had clawed its way to his chest, and yelling kept it from hurting, just for a moment. He would've torn apart their whole lair with his bare hands if he could make that feeling go away forever. So he kept pushing forward, and it was as if he was watching himself, instead of being himself. Like he wasn’t pretending to be a worm anymore, but some other thing was pretending to be him.

“Yeah, I am lying. You know what _ really _ happened to Mom and Dad? They got all crushed up in a car and splattered into goo. And then the goo was scooped up and shoved in a hole in the ground, and now worms eat the goo up and there’s nothing left but bones. They’re dead and _ that’s it, _ ” Remus flung the words out venomously, finding a dark satisfaction in the way they made Roman flinch.

Roman struggled out of his sleeping bag and onto his feet.

“I hate you!” he screamed, standing over Roman, his fists balled, tears still streaming down his cheeks.

Remus jumped to meet him, and now he was sobbing, unable to hold back his pain any longer. He and Roman were nose to nose.

“Good!” he screamed right back.

“What are you two doing?” a voice demanded.

Remus whipped around. Standing in the door frame, in a rumpled shirt and rubbing sleep from his eyes, was their new foster parent, Janus. 

“I could hear both of you yelling all the way downstairs. What is going on?” he asked.

Across from him, Roman froze, his fists uncurling. The ugly feeling inside Remus shriveled up all at once, leaving him hollow. He could still feel tears dripping down his face, but he couldn’t even imagine crying now. 

He exchanged a look with Roman. Remus didn’t think either of them expected Janus to be the one to break them up. 

“...Well?” Janus asked, looking back and forth between the two silent twins apprehensively. Behind him, Virgil emerged out of the darkness, his hair sticking in several directions.

“I’ve got this,” Virgil said, pushing roughly past Janus. Their foster parent pressed himself against the doorframe as he passed, watching the scene warily. 

“Remus was being mean and gross, and he said some really awful things,” Roman spilled out as soon as Virgil reached them. Remus wanted to be angry at him for tattling, but Roman was shuddering and hiccuping, and it made a thick, slimy, feeling squirm in him. A very wormy feeling. He hung his head.

Virgil rubbed his eyes wearily, then took Roman’s hand. 

“Come one, you can sleep with me for the rest of the night,” he said to him. He turned to Remus. He expected Virgil to be upset, but when Remus reluctantly met his eyes, Virgil just looked tired. Tired, and sad.

“We’ll talk about this tomorrow, okay Remus?” he said. Remus nodded, returning his eyes to the floor.

Virgil left, pulling Roman along behind him. He walked right past Janus without even sparing a glance. Janus watched the two go for a moment, then turned to Remus. 

“You good, kid?” he asked, tilting his head.

“Leave me alone,” Remus said, hugging himself. He’d meant to sound vicious, but his words only came out weak. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

Janus put his hands up in surrender, sighing, and retreated back into the dim hallway, leaving Remus alone in the empty room.


	10. Virgil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil and Janus take the first tiny, reluctant step towards progress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to pry every single paragraph of this chapter out of my skull with a crowbar. Not sure how that'll affect the quality.

Virgil staggered down the staircase, bleary. Roman had been in hysterics all night, talking about vengeful ghosts, and their parents being eaten in the grave. Apparently, Remus had given him these ideas, which didn’t surprise Virgil at all. Remus had always  been fond of the creepy and macabre, but it had definitely taken an unsettling turn since the crash. 

Virgil swung around the foot of the stairs. On the living room floor, the twins were coloring on a roll of blank paper, as if last night never happened. 

Typical. Those two were like magnets with constantly flipping poles. Sometimes, they’d stick to each other, closer than strands of a braid. But at any point (and it was impossible to predict when), one would flip, and the two of them would rocket away from each other, screaming and kicking with the bitterness of hated foes.

Usually, people assumed it was Remus who started things, since he liked provoking people, but Roman was no different. He’d always been impassioned, and a little reckless, but now that energy spilled over short-tempered snaps and inconsolable outbursts.

The best thing Virgil could do was clumsily affix a band-aid on the situation, and send them out again, hoping they’d stick long enough for Virgil to recover. Which was what he’d been doing last night, instead of sleeping.

The result was a net total of four hours of sleep, cut off by the rays of sunshine that had angled in through the window of the unused office. Virgil had considered pulling the blanket over his head and trying to eke out another hour or two, but he had heard chatter downstairs. He didn’t trust his new foster parents enough to leave them alone with his brothers. 

“Good afternoon,” Logan said to him as he trudged in the living room, lightly turning the page of an old National Geographic. 

“Afternoon?” Virgil mumbled, squinting at the clock on the mantle. 

It read a quarter to one. Virgil tugged his hoodie sleeves over his hands. He’d already left his brothers alone far too long.

He sank down onto the couch next to Logan, scanning for signs of distress. Logan seemed fine, but Logan was always fine, so that didn’t mean much. 

At least, he acted like he was fine. Logan barely talked to any of them anymore, and sometimes Virgil would catch him glaring at a wall, fists balled in his lap, or curled up in a closet, sobbing. Ages ago, he’d get annoyed when Logan would launch into a long lecture on starfish taxonomy or Prussian history. Nowadays, he had to fight Logan for every sentence. 

“Oh, you’re up!” Patton popped out of the kitchen, still in pajamas. Virgil jumped. “Come get something to eat. I got a late start too, and I didn’t have the energy to make a proper breakfast, but there’s oatmeal, and cereal, or maybe some toast?”

Virgil’s eyelids still felt impossibly heavy. Maybe eating would help. He cautiously followed Patton back to the kitchen, still not sure what to make of the man. Part of him wanted to like him, but he was so...enthusiastic, all the time. 

At least, most of the time. He’d only been here a week, but Virgil had already caught Patton staring blankly into the distance when he thought no one was looking, and seen how quickly his smiles melted from when people turned away.

Virgil nabbed a random box of cereal and a bowl. When he poured the milk, it came out in chunks. He made a face, carrying the jug to the sink.

“Oh, dear. I may have forgotten about that milk,” Patton said, grimacing. 

“It’s fine,” Virgil yawned, too tired to care. He turned on the faucet, his eyesight blurring as he watched the remaining chunks swirl down the drain.

“Rough night?” Patton asked.

“Yeah.”

“I put a pot of coffee on for myself, do you want some? Wait, maybe not. Can you drink coffee? You’re old enough for that, right?”

Virgil could use some caffeine, but it always made him jittery. Then again, it’d been ages since anybody had offered him a good cup of coffee. Not that he particularly liked coffee, but this might be his last chance to have some, before he and his brothers were shuffled off again.

“Sure, I’ll take a cup. Only if you really don’t mind”

“Not at all,” Patton reassured him, taking a multicolored mug from the cabinet. 

The  _ click  _ of a laptop being shut in the next room caught Virgil’s attention.

“That’s just Janus,” Patton told him. “He’s on one of those job-hunting websites. Or maybe one of those realtor sites? Either way, he’s just trying to figure things out,” he handed Virgil his coffee.

Virgil clutched the mug close, letting the ceramic warm his hand. Hesitantly, he stepped into the dining room. Janus had his head on the table, surrounded by paperwork. An untouched plate of toast sat at his elbow. His hands were laced in his hair, his shoulders slumped.

“You look tired,” Virgil told him, taking more than a little petty satisfaction in the scowl Janus gave him as he raised his head.

“So do you,” he replied evenly.

Virgil didn’t trust the man. He had no reason to, after all. They’d only been there a week, but Janus hadn’t had a full conversation with any of them. He seemed uncomfortable simply being in their presence. 

“Did everything turn out all right, with that fight last night?” Janus asked, his demeanor shifting closer to something like gentle. Virgil narrowed his eyes.

“Yep. Everything’s just fine now. No need for you to get involved at all,” he pointedly emphasized the last sentence, gauging Janus’ reaction.

Apparently, his grandparents had recommended him, and that couldn’t be good. Nothing they did was any good, and they’d been like that long before his parents died. 

“You’re quite protective of them. Your brothers, I mean,” Janus said, ignoring Virgil’s bait. He wasn’t accusatory. If anything, it was the closest he’d gotten to compassionate since Virgil met him. 

“What about it?” Virgil asked.

“Horace--your father, he was like that with me. You remind me of him, quite a bit, actually,” Janus added. The ridges of his scar tightened as he set his jaw.

_ Hmm _ . Virgil hadn’t been expecting that. He was left a little off-kilter, like he’d just watched an enemy exploit a weakness he hadn’t even been aware of. Meanwhile, Janus had raised his own defenses along with his statement, shutting his expression down so that it was impossible for Virgil to read.

No one in the family had ever acknowledged Janus. Looking back, Virgil had to admit there’d been another kid in his Dad’s childhood photos. And maybe his Dad had mentioned a brother once or twice. Maybe he’d overheard his grandparents talk about a different son, once or twice. But never by name. He couldn’t fathom why, though. What had Janus done to be blacklisted from the Sanders family like that? 

Whatever the reason, Virgil didn’t want to find out the hard way. He wasn’t going to let his guard down, any more than Janus would. It was the only thing protecting him and his brothers.

“Yeah, well. That’s kind of the point, isn’t it?” Virgil gripped his mug, and took a steadying sip. “That’s what big brothers are for. Holding things together.”

That’s all he had been doing, since the moment the doctors delivered the news. Every step of the way, from the funeral to the foster homes, to this very dining room, Virgil had held things together. He’d torn himself to pieces to keep what was left of his family whole. 

He hadn’t allowed himself to go numb in the emergency room, like his body had tried to do. He’d held Roman as the kid fell to pieces, right there for the world to see.

He didn’t let himself cry at the funeral, because Remus had still been trembling, from the first of many nightmares his little brother refused to talk about.

He’d wanted to shut down, run on auto-pilot in those next few weeks, but Logan did that instead. So Virgil made sure he ate, and didn’t literally lose himself in his books.

Everyday, Virgil fought a constant battle against falling to pieces. And the guard he put up was his only way of keeping his brothers, and the entire world, from seeing it. It was vital that they didn’t know how hard it was. They needed him to be whole. He knew it probably wasn’t healthy, but he couldn’t really care. 

After all, if he failed, there was no one to take his place. 

“Well, I wouldn’t know what it takes to be an elder brother,” Janus interrupted Virgil’s thoughts. “But since you got here, you’ve been going above and beyond. Shielding them from everybody. Taking sole responsibility.”

Virgil waited to see where this was going.

“Maybe you should get some rest,” Janus said to him, in the exact same tone his Mom had used, whenever he was sick. A tone he hadn’t heard in so long, he’d forgotten what it sounded like. Virgil’s throat hitched unexpectedly, and he fought down a sob. He must be more tired than he thought.

“I’m fine,” he said. Thankfully, his voice didn’t tremor.

“I’m just saying. You’ve done a lot, since you arrived. Every time I try to step in, you’re already there. I can handle things, at least for a few hours.” There was a touch of defensiveness in his tone.

“Oh, you're sure about that?” Virgil said, the sarcasm just light enough to pass as a genuine question, if you didn’t know any better.

Evidently, Janus did know better.

“Look, kid,” Janus tore a hand through his hair. “I’m trying to help you here, all of you. I know I’m not great at it, but I’m trying. If you’re not going to let me help, then what am I here for?”

“I don’t need your help.  _ We  _ don’t need your help.”

“Well, that’s too bad. You’re going to get it anyway.”

Virgil glared. Janus crossed his arms, as if to say he could do this all day. 

“What’s with you?” Virgil demanded. “You come out of nowhere, you act like you can’t stand us, but then you sit here for hours, trying to change the entire trajectory of your life, just to fit us into it. Why?” Virgil’s exhaustion fled him. Now that he had found the questions, he wanted the answers.

“Because you’re family,” Janus answered, but it rang hollow.

“Really? Because our family didn’t seem to care all that much about you.”

Virgil immediately knew he’d taken it too far. His uncle flinched, as if struck. Virgil waited, for fury or insults, or hatred. Maybe even for Janus to kick them out. His heart plummeted. This had been their last chance, and Virgil might have already ruined it.

Janus sighed, long and deep, leaning back in his chair. He hung his head back to stare at the ceiling. Virgil watched him, his pulse hammering.

“I know I said that Horace and I had a complicated relationship,” Janus spoke slowly, as if carefully considering every word. “But I loved him. He was the one member of my family I trusted. And he did a lot for me growing up, even if he hurt me in some other ways, too.” 

Janus locked his eyes with Virgil’s, and his defenses were gone, his expression as open as Virgil had ever seen it. 

“I want to do good by his kids. I can’t fix what went wrong between me and my brother, not anymore, but I can be there for his sons. And I will, as long as you’re willing to to work with me. That’s a promise. And I don’t make those lightly.”

Virgil shifted. A thousand possible responses crowded his tongue. His guard had been up for so long, that he couldn’t lower it now. But for the first time, part of him, a stupid, crazy part, actually wanted to try. 

“Fine. I’ll take a nap,” he conceded, leaving the heart-to-heart stuff for later. Hopefully never. “I’ll only sleep for an hour, maybe two.”

Virgil slept soundly until dinner.


	11. Roman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman is on a quest for the last ingredient of a magic potion, and overhears a conversation along the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roman finally gets his introductory chapter! I know I skipped last week, so thank you all for being patient with me. It was a combination of having stuff to get done, and trying to get Roman's characterization right.

The August sun was warm on Roman’s face as hopped up to catch the lowest branch of the tree. Locking his fingers around the rough bark, he dangled above the ground for a moment, before kicking his feet against the trunk to pull himself up. 

Roman wrapped his legs around the sturdy branch, and positioned himself like a sloth. Hanging his head, he watched his twin upside down. Remus was kneeling in the garden plot, digging up clods of dirt, right where Roman had left him. Clawing an especially large chunk out of the ground, Remus examined it closely, giving a satisfied nod, before dropping it into the watering can next to him with a  _ plunk! _

“What was I supposed to get for the magic potion, again?” Roman shouted, squinting against the glare of the sun. Remus swirled the water can, mixing the ingredients.

“Tree bugs!”

“Are you sure that’s a real thing?”

“Yeah! Don’t you remember? Logan said that’s what woodpeckers eat! They live under the bark”

Roman frowned, scooting around until he had perched himself atop the low branch. The next branch looked strong enough, but it was too far to reach. He scanned the trunk, looking for knots for him to dig his toes in. 

“What do tree bugs look like?” he asked, wedging his sneaker into divet in the bark. His sneakers made a feeble attempt at lighting up, but quickly flickered out. They must be running out of batteries or something.

“I dunno. I guess anything that looks gross and buggy. Maybe if you peel off some bark?” Remus shrugged, dropping some torn up grass into the can. 

Roman leaned carefully out to the next branch, catching hold of it. He hoisted himself up and hooked his leg around it, sitting like a knight on his horse. He hummed, taking in the view.

Up here, the wide leaves hid him from the sun and anybody on the ground. Roman stored this spot away as a good potential hiding place, next time he and Remus played hide and seek. It wasn’t too high, so it wouldn’t freak out Virgil. Well, everything freaked out Virgil, but at least it wouldn’t freak him out bad enough for him to get upset at Roman. 

Mom used to watch him when he climbed trees. She’d help him pick the best way up, and made sure he knew which branches were the safest. And no matter how high or low Roman went, she’d always say he was the bravest little prince she’d ever known. 

Nobody called him a little prince anymore. But there were a lot of things that didn’t happen anymore, even if his siblings pretended nothing had changed.

“Have you got the bugs yet?” Remus called.

“No,” Roman answered. “I can’t go any higher. The branches are too skinny.”

“Well then, just get the bugs where you’re at!” Remus said impatiently.

“All right, fine!” Roman grumbled. 

Roman scrabbled at the branch he was sitting on, trying to peel off the bark. Tiny flakes chipped away, floating down to the decorative bench below him, but it didn’t make much of a dent. He huffed, blowing a curl out of his eyes.

“What if I just grab some leaves? The potion would still work with leaves, right?”

“Roman, we already have a  _ ton _ of leaves. We gotta get some tree bugs or else the potion isn’t gonna work!”

“Fine!” Roman groaned dramatically, renewing his efforts.

He pried each chunk off the branch, piece by piece. There were no insects yet, but he was getting closer, he could feel it. He wished he was a woodpecker. Then he could get the bugs easily, and peck his Remus for being annoying. Flying would be cool, too. 

Sunbeams glanced through the swaying leaves, tricking Roman’s eyes, making him think there were bugs when it was really just dancing shadows. His fingernails were starting to get sore. Maybe he could just bring back some bark flakes for the potion, and if Remus really wanted the tree bugs he could get them himself. Even if his brother wasn’t as good at climbing trees as he was. 

“So, how have things been? For the past few years, I suppose,” Janus said, two branches and a trunk below Roman.

He paused, leaning over the branch to look down. Patton and Janus approached the bench, but didn’t sit. The tops of their heads were directly below Roman’s feet. He hadn’t heard them coming. 

“Oh, you know. I moved into this house. I’ve been teaching the preschoolers, and they’re always so sweet. Do you remember Aliyah?” Patton said.

“I believe so...one of the other teachers, right? The one in the classroom across from yours?” Janus said.

“Not anymore. She became the principal, after David retired.”

“Oh, good for her. She seemed like a capable woman.”

Roman didn’t think they knew he was up here. This was definitely going to be a good hide and seek spot. He leaned down on the branch, to lay on his stomach. Dad used to say he was a master spy, because Roman loved to listen in on the grown-ups, especially when they thought he wasn’t paying attention.

“What about you?” Patton asked. He asked it nervously, though Roman didn’t know why Patton was nervous. 

“Oh, you know me. Conquering the world, winning gold in the Olympics. Standard stuff,” Janus said. 

Patton laughed, fiddling with the buttons on his shirt.

Roman scrunched his nose. Janus must’ve been using sarcasm, like Virgil did sometimes. Roman didn’t think Janus was that cool. At least, not cool like that. With his scars and everything, Janus did look a little like a cartoon villain. That was kind of cool, even if he didn’t act all that villainous. 

“Really, though. What do you do everyday?” Patton asked, nudging Janus with his shoulder. Janus shrunk a little, away from the gesture.

“Honestly? Not much. I write about snakes for work, then I watch trashy reality tv until I pass out on the couch. You know, keeping it classy.”

The two fell silent. Roman rested his chin on his palm, thinking. 

He’d thought Patton and Janus were boyfriends or something. After all, they seemed to like each other, always smiling at each other for no reason, or laughing at stuff the other said that wasn’t really all that funny. But It sounded like they hadn’t talked to each other in a while. Even if they were just friends, they should still be talking to each other, right?

“Oh, it looks like one of the kiddos is having fun in that old garden,” Patton said suddenly.

“Is that okay?” Janus asked him. “I know how careful you are with your garden.”

“Oh, it's fine. That garden’s been empty for years. I wanted to revive it, after I moved in but I just...never got around to it.” Patton said. He was looking in Remus’ direction, but Roman didn’t think he was actually watching anything in particular.

Janus tilted his head. He moved closer, lowering his voice so that Roman could barely hear it.

“Are you doing okay, Patton? You’ve seemed a bit, I don’t know. Subdued, since I got here,” he said.

Patton snapped his head up, staring at him wordlessly.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to pry,” Janus said quickly. “I’m just worried. You seem really tired and distracted, you know? You used to love working in the garden, at our house. Leaving this one alone for so long. It’s not like you.” 

Patton grasped at the collar of his shirt, stepping away from Janus.

“No, no. I’m fine, really. I just, um. Things have changed, you know?”

Janus’ shoulders fell.

“Yeah, I guess they have,” he rubbed his arms. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s none of my business.”

Roman didn’t understand everything, but it was pretty clear what was going on. Patton and Janus were sad about grown-up stuff. Obviously, they just needed to kiss each other, and they’d probably feel much better. It worked with his mom and dad whenever they had gotten upset. 

“I didn’t mean to leave like that. To leave you like that,” Janus said, sinking down onto the bench. “I thought, after the divorce, that we would still be friends. I thought we just needed space to heal.”

Patton still wasn’t saying anything, but he too settled on the bench, keeping space between himself and Janus. The two men barely moved, like they were trying to escape a T. rex. 

“I thought we’d still talk. Maybe not often, but I thought we’d still be a part of each other’s lives,” Janus said.

Patton shifted, just a bit closer to Janus.

“I did too. I mean, I know you said you needed more space, and I wanted to respect that. So after you left, I just...let you be. I figured that when you were ready, you’d let me know. Somehow that turned into letting you go,” Patton said. 

Janus laid a hand down next to Patton’s, not quite touching him.

“You did what I asked, Patton. The blame of the past five years lies with me,” Janus faced Patton, leaning in to close a bit of the gap between them. “I thought I’d get my shit together, but I never really did. And I couldn’t bear to drag you back into my mess until I’d sorted things out. I guess I ended up cutting you out of my life, without even trying.”

Patton leaned his head back, the sunlight glaring off the lenses of his glasses. Roman heart jumped, thinking for a moment he’d been caught, but Patton’s eyes were closed, his brow knit. 

“I don’t think I ever got my...stuff together, either,” he said, his voice cracking a bit. “Maybe you’re right, but I could have at least called. I could’ve tried harder. Gosh!”

He laughed, but it wasn’t a very happy laugh. He buried his face in his hands.

“How did we let this happen, Janus?” he said. 

“I hate to say this, but we might be fools,” Janus said, laying a light hand on Patton’s back, like he was scared.

“Well, we knew that already. Remember when we put dish soap in the dishwasher in our first apartment?” Patton uncovered his face, and Roman could just make out a soft smile.

“Oh, don’t remind me,” Janus said, covering his face and groaning. “We barely made the down payment on that place, and then we ruined the most expensive appliance there.”

The two of them giggled, and Roman couldn’t help but giggle with them. He didn’t really get the joke, but he liked that they were getting along. The divorce thing was weird, though. He knew what that was, but he thought only people who hated each other did it. Patton and Janus didn’t look like they hated each other, especially right now. 

He’d have to tell Remus about this. And Logan, because he was smart enough to actually get the joke, and he’d explain it to Roman. Virgil would want to know about this, too. He was always asking questions about all of their foster parents, like what they did when Virgil wasn’t around, and if they were nice to him and his other brothers. 

“Roman, kiddo, is that you?” Patton called up. 

Roman’s giggles faded. Janus and Patton were staring up at him quizzically. Darn it. They'd heard him laughing.

“Yeah, I’m just looking for tree bugs,” he told them, hoping they wouldn’t yell at him. Patton blinked. Janus tilted his head, looking confused.

“Oh, okay then. Be careful up there, all right? I wouldn’t want you to get hurt,” Patton said.

“Okay!” Roman said cheerily, relieved that they weren’t mad.

“How much did you hear up there?” Janus asked. 

Roman shrugged, and didn’t answer. His left hand tickled. Looking down, he spotted a creepy-crawly centipede running over his fingers. 

“Remus! Remus, I found one!” he shouted excitedly, clapping a hand over the bug. He scrambled down the tree towards his brother, a shower of twigs and leaves following in his wake.


	12. Patton

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patton is having a bad day. Janus makes it a little better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which I try my hand at the beloved fanfic genre, hurt/comfort. I don't know if I did it right, but I did do my best, and that's all I can really ask of myself :) 
> 
> Warnings: Depressive thoughts and behavior heavily featured. Patton's thoughts briefly dance around suicidal ideation, though suicide itself is not mentioned. Please stay safe

Sometimes, Patton had good days. 

Days where he could get out of bed, eat a meal or two, and maybe even feel a real emotion. There’d been several of those since Janus and the kiddos had shown up. Part of it had been keeping up appearances; he couldn’t have anybody thinking something was wrong. 

Another part was the way his heart betrayed him every time he caught Janus’ eyes. The cyclone of exuberant energy from the twins. Logan’s steady, reassuring silence. How Virgil ghosted among them all, far too serious and still so young.

Sometimes Patton had good days. Today was not one of those days. 

The curtains were drawn tight against the window, but it must be late in the afternoon by now. Patton would turn his head to look at his glowing alarm clock, but he was transfixed with apathy, staring mutely at the shadows on his ceiling. His pajamas were wrinkled, his sheets twisted, but he made no move to fix them. 

Vaguely, he thought about brushing his teeth, at least. The notion faded, quicker than it had appeared. 

Patton had to get up. There was no choice in the matter. Eventually, they’d notice his absence. Janus would get suspicious. He was so perceptive, and Patton had already told him too much, under that tree. If Patton didn’t get up, Janus would figure it out. 

Or maybe it didn’t matter. Why should Janus care, really? They weren’t married anymore; there was nothing between them. He had no obligation to care about anything Patton did, or felt. 

He could stay in bed all day. They all had their own problems. Nobody would care. Patton wouldn't have to face anybody, not even himself. 

Patton drew his knees closer, his body aching. The thought should have been comforting, a release from responsibility. Instead, it hit like a punch to the chest. 

A tightness constricted his throat. He swallowed weakly, half-heartedly resisting. When he said he wished he could feel something, self-loathing wasn’t what he meant. 

Hot tears ran down his cheeks, blurring his eyesight more than usual. What was wrong with him? He had no reason to be like this. Resentment gnashed at him at his mind and body. 

He’d had rough patches, sure. Everyone does, but they didn’t break down like he did. Especially not years after the fact. 

Janus had done fine, and the accident had been worse for him than it’d been for Patton. His ex-husband could get up and take care of himself, and do his very best for four children, too. Meanwhile, Patton couldn’t even control his own emotions.

His breathing was coming in staccato bursts, an ugly hate wrapping like a vise around his soul. Patton couldn’t stand himself. Why should he get to feel anything, if this was how he acted? 

He wanted some kind of release, from his mind and body and heart. Did he even deserve that? Maybe this numbness, this resignation, this despair and detachment, was what he deserved all along. 

A gentle knock tapped his bedroom door. 

Patton startled, sitting up. Frantically, he wiped the wetness from his face, taking deep, shaky breaths to steady himself. 

“Come in,” he said, wincing at the waver in his words.

Janus peeked in as he pushed the door open. Patton could almost see the gears turning in his head, as he took him in. Slumped forlornly in bed, with a sheet wrapped around him, and the rest of the dark, gloomy room. His face warmed in shame.

“I just wanted to check on you. It’s a bit late, and I wanted to make sure you didn’t have an aneurysm. Or something like that,” Janus said. He kept his tone light, but Patton couldn’t miss the hidden softness behind it.

“Oh. I-I didn’t mean to worry anyone. I was just feeling a bit under the weather,” he said. It wasn’t a lie, not really. Whatever was wrong with him, he certainly didn’t feel healthy.

He folded his hands, putting on the picture of a functional human being, and waited for Janus to leave. 

Instead, Janus knit his brow, and strode over. He hesitated for only a moment before perching at the edge of Patton’s bed. 

“You’re sick? Why didn’t you say something?” he laid a hand on Patton’s forehead, the questions coming in a flurry. “Have you even eaten today?” 

Patton squeezed his eyes shut. Of course. He’d forgotten how much of a mother Janus could be. Next time he’d have to come up with a different excuse.

“You’re not running much of a temperature...please tell me you at least took some medicine.”

“It’s not really a fever. Mostly just aches and pains in the joints. Must be getting old,” he tried for a chuckle, but it came out more like a wheeze. 

That too, wasn’t technically a lie. He had woken up feeling like he’d been flattened out by a rolling pin. Lying in bed all day hadn’t really helped, but lying in bed all day didn’t help most things. 

“Patton…” Janus said slowly. He stared at him, head tilted. 

“Yes?”

Janus reached out and cupped Patton’s cheek in his hand. 

The tenderness sparked at Patton’s nerves, sending a thrilling current out along his whole body. He wanted to lean into the gesture, and press Janus’ hand closer to him. He wanted to fold his entire being into that cupped hand, and finally find release. 

Instead, he held completely still, as if Janus were a butterfly alighted on his finger, which the smallest twitch would send fluttering away. 

“Have you been crying?” Janus asked, thumbing at the wetness on Patton’s cheeks.

Uh-oh. He’d been caught. Was it believable that a few achy joints had sent a grown adult into tears? He might be out of excuses.

“Don’t worry about me,” he murmured, not even sure how he wanted Janus to respond.

“But I do,” Janus’ voice was barely above whisper, as if he were talking to himself. “I can’t help it.”

Patton did take Janus’ hand then, clasping it between his own like a lifeline. He lowered it from his face, suspending it between the two of them. Every fiber within him wanted to pull it close, and hold it to his heart. Patton resisted.

“S-soup,” Janus stammered abruptly, gently disentangling himself. Patton let him, his own hands falling to his lap. 

“I’ll make you some soup. And then you’re going to take some Tylenol,” he continued, backing towards the door.

“Will you have a bowl with me?” Patton didn’t process the words until they were already out of his mouth. 

Janus paused at the door. With the slightest of smiles, he nodded, once.

“Yes. Yes, I will.”

Almost absentmindedly, he knocked against the door jamb.

“I’ll be back in an hour. Until then, take care of yourself. I mean it.”

He disappeared out to the hallway, and Patton grinned in spite of himself. The numbness and self-loathing hadn’t gone away, exactly; but its sharp edges had been blunted, at least for now. 

Janus couldn’t cook to save his life or anybody else’s, and the soup would be a mess. Patton was looking forward to every spoonful. 


	13. Janus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Janus and the boys on a grocery trip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little bit of bonding. Janus starts to warm up to the boys, just a bit.

One wheel of the shopping cart was sticky, lolling around on its joint instead of spinning properly. Janus gritted his teeth, shoving the cart around a corner and into the breakfast aisle, the useless wheel squeaking and skipping over the linoleum in protest.

“Pick some breakfast foods, and make it quick,” he said to his nephews.

After spending twenty minutes trying to convince Roman to have a can of green beans for lunch, Janus had decided that it might be time to stock up on food the boys actually wanted. Not to mention all of Patton’s food they’d pilfered. He shook his head, examining the shopping list again. They were eating that poor man out of house and home. 

“We can pick anything?” Roman bounced on his toes, eagerly peering down the aisle.

“Anything,” Janus replied, crossing a neat line over  _ potatoes  _ on the list. 

“Anything?” Remus this time, practically spinning to take in the selection of cereals and coffee blends.

“Yes, any--Just go, all right?” he told them.

As if they’d been cut loose from a leash, the twins hurtled down the aisle, laughing and shoving. Logan, who was standing at Janus’ elbow, flattened his collar and peeled away without a word. Standing technically next to him, but as far from him as he could get in the narrow aisle, Virgil gave no indication of moving. 

“You too, Virgil,” Janus said. Did they stock the tea in this aisle? He didn’t usually grocery shop, preferring to order online and keep social interaction to a minimum. Unfortunately, that method didn’t work well for five people.

“I don’t eat breakfast.”

“Hmm,” Janus glanced at Virgil. “You should. The most important meal of the day, and all that.”

“Yes. Eating breakfast helps keep your metabolism steady,” Logan had returned, clutching a box of plain Cheerios.

“See? Logan understands,” Janus said.

Virgil glared from under his hood.

“What, no sugar or chocolate? Not even marshmallows?” Janus remarked, examining Logan’s cereal.

“This is more sensible,” Logan said.

“Ah, okay,” Janus said, placing the box in the cart. “Didn’t realize cereal had the capacity for sense.”

Logan joined Virgil in glaring at him.

Remus sprinted back holding a box of toaster pastries, pouncing up onto the edge of the cart. It rattled, swerving from the impact. Righting it, Janus sighed deeply.

Roman was not far behind, but stopped several feet away. Winding his arm back with great exaggeration, he launched his box into the cart, and it slammed with another rattle among the other groceries.

“Oh look, a touchdown,” Janus deadpanned.

“Hey, hey Janus, can I ride on the front of the cart?” Remus asked.

“Sure, why not?” Sometimes, you had to pick your battles. “Virgil, last chance to get something, we’re moving on.”

Virgil shrugged, his hands buried deep in his jacket pockets. 

“Hey, no fair. I want to ride the cart, too,” Roman tugged at his brother’s sleeves.

“Janus said _ I _ could ride, not you,” Remus said, shaking him off. 

“I said no such thing. Just take turns, for the sake of my sanity.”

Turning the stubborn cart around a blind corner, Janus squealed to a sudden stop, almost colliding with another customer. The piles of groceries in the cart tumbled. 

“Sorry about that,” he told the man he’d almost knocked over, grimacing.

He got no reply. The man opened his mouth, but when caught full sight of Janus’ face--his scars--he recoiled, curling his lip and scuttling away. 

Janus gripped the cart tighter, and pretended it didn’t sting.

Roman and Remus abruptly halted their bickering, watching the man leave with an unsettling intensity on their young faces. Logan peered up at Janus curiously, as if examining him anew. 

It was bad enough by himself, but it was somehow worse with his nephews looking on. Now they could see him as the world saw him, broken and unfit for society. But then again, what else would you call a man who failed not one, but two families, and was in the process of failing a third? 

“Well, Virgil, there’s always toast. Or maybe we could pick you some waffles up in the frozen section,” he said, determined to act as if the interaction hadn’t happened. 

“Waffles, sure. Sounds good,” Virgil agreed quickly.

Janus winced. Virgil of all people was trying to spare his feelings. Apparently, he was not playing it off very well.

“That guy was a jerk,” Roman muttered, still glaring in the direction the man had fled. 

“Yeah,” Remus agreed, a glint coming into his eyes. “ _ You hear that jerkface? _ YOU’RE A GIGANTIC BUTT!”

Janus jumped, eyes widening as Remus’ declaration echoed through the supermarket. Both the twins burst into giggles, and a smile twitched at Virgil’s lips. Even Logan held his head higher in defiance.

“That’s very sweet, you two, but that guy’s not really your problem,” Janus said quickly. 

He rushed everyone into the next aisle, grappling with a burning desire to hide among the cans of tomato sauce. 

At the same time, the oddest urge came over him. The urge to stop in the middle of the store, and gather all four of them up into a grateful hug. 

Affection. That’s what it was. Janus swallowed. Affection was the sense of perfect contentment washing over him. And it came to him in a supermarket, of all places, surrounded by a couple of lost boys just as broken as he was. 

Janus was many things, but he wasn’t foolish. He knew a mere feeling wouldn’t be enough to hold them together, to make them a family. After all, affection hadn’t been enough to hold him and Horace together, or prevent the divorce. It certainly hadn’t been enough to save his son.

But as Janus pushed his unfortunate cart down the aisle, surrounded by his family, he couldn’t help but feel it was a start. 


	14. Virgil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Janus has a plan, Logan and Remus bicker, Virgil and Patton go plant shopping, and Virgil has breakdown in a nursery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another late chapter, so thank you all for being patient. I'm back at college, so I don't think I'll be able to keep the once-a-week-updates schedule going. I'll try not to make you guys wait too long though. In classic Thomas Sanders style, I won't give a hard deadline so I don't end up disappointing you guys when I can't meet it. Love all of you :)

Virgil focused on staying still and invisible, listening intently to the conversation happening in the next room. 

“So the best plan I have so far involves calling up some old colleagues and seeing if they’ve got any positions available,” Janus said, accompanied by the  _ clunk  _ of a mug being set on the dinner table. 

“Oh, you should call Valerie! She always seemed to need research partners,” Patton said. “And remember, she did say that if you ever needed help, that you could lean on her.”

“I remember. Valerie’s at the top of my list. And being a researcher has never been a lucrative career, but it pays a hell of a lot more than writing for a magazine eight people read.”

Patton hummed something noncommittal. Virgil shifted, casually leaning on the arm of the couch and cupping a discrete hand around his ear. 

“Whether or not that pans out, the next step is moving out of the apartment. The money that would have gone toward rent can be saved up, or buy the kids things they need. Mattresses, juice pouches, school supplies. All of that. If the job works out, that's even more disposable income to put towards those things.”

“So, I can count on the five of you sticking around for a bit longer?”

“I’m sorry, Patton. I can still pay rent if you’d like--”

“Absolutely not, I won’t hear of it.” Patton cut him off.

Janus muttered something that sounded like  _ If you say so _ . Virgil could almost see him shaking his head, an adoring half smile curling at his lips. His uncle had it for Patton bad, divorce or not. Or maybe Virgil was just letting Roman’s romantic convictions get to him. 

“Remus, that’s  _ mine! _ ” Logan shouted somewhere upstairs.

The stairs creaked and groaned as Remus pounded down them. A sinking dismay gripped Virgil. He turned, just in time to see his little brother speed around a corner into the living room, holding a notebook triumphantly aloft. 

It was always Remus. Why did it always have to be Remus?

Appearing behind him, glasses askew, Logan made a grab for the notebook. Remus ducked out of range, giggling maniacally.

“I got your notebook,  _ nerd. _ Stole it right out of your hands!” Remus shook it mockingly.

“Remus, stop being foolish. Give it back,  _ now _ ,” Logan demanded.

Virgil caught Remus around the middle, twisting to avoid his bites and kicks. Logan threw himself into the fray, trying to wrench the notebook from Remus’ grip. With an indignant growl, Remus began scrabbling at Logan’s face.

“Logan...I’m trying...to pull him away! Let...go...of...the notebook!” Virgil gasped out, catching rain boot in the shoulder.

"Not until he gives it back!" Logan insisted, a cold determination in his eyes as he brace his feet to tug harder.

“Hey, hey, hey, break it up!” Janus had appeared, Patton close behind. 

Using the distraction to his advantage, Logan reclaimed his notebook, turned on his heel, and fled back up the stairs, as if the fight hadn’t occurred. Remus, devoid of conflict, went limp in Virgil’s arms. He stuck a tongue out at Janus.

“I’m going to eat cookies and there’s nothing you can do to stop me!” he said, tearing out of Virgil’s grip and dashing past them into the kitchen.

“Only two, okay Remus?” Patton called after him. 

Patton and Janus looked at each other, absorbed in silent conversation. Janus raised an eyebrow, and Patton shrugged. Virgil straightened his hoodie self-consciously.

“Well,” Patton started, giving Janus a coy look. “On the topic of rent, I can think of one way you could repay me for all this.”

Virgil coughed, suppressing a laugh. His uncle was actually blushing, a deep scarlet spreading up his neck and over his cheeks. 

“And what...would that be?” Janus managed to wheeze. 

“You could help me with the garden! I think I want to start it again, and I was going to go plant shopping today,” Patton said cheerily, a grin lighting up his face.

Janus blinked.

“You bastard,” he laughed, the tension draining from his expression. “You got me. I’ll help, just this once.”

They smiled at each in stupid bliss for what felt like to Virgil a full minute. He smirked, all manner of jokes crossing his mind, mainly centered on what kind of room they needed. Nonchalantly, he cleared his throat.

The two men jerked out of their reverie, flustered. Patton rubbed his arms.

“Maybe you could sort through my old seeds? I need them separated between flowers, herbs, and veggies. And Virgil can come with me to the nursery!” Patton said. 

“Whoa, wait,” Virgil said, taking a step back, his hands raised in defense. “Why can’t Janus go?”

“Oh! Um, you don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” Patton rushed to say. “I just needed more hands to carry plants, and I thought you might like to get out of the house, get a break from your brothers.”

“Janus has hands. Why don’t you go with Patton?” Virgil challenged.

“Somebody has to watch your brothers,” Janus replied, crossing his arms and giving Virgil an amused look. Bastard.

“I’m perfectly capable of watching my brothers. I’ve been doing it for this long.”

An awkward silence enveloped the three of them. Virgil fought the urge to pull his hood over his head. That had sounded less pitiful in his head.

“Well,” Patton shuffled his feet. “That’s sort of what I meant. Maybe you’d like just an hour or two without having to break up fights? And you can pick out whatever plant you’d like.”

Virgil bit his lip. Janus clearly wasn’t getting rid of him anytime soon. The longer this went on, the more it appeared he’d actually have to cooperate with these particular foster parents. 

“Fine. Let’s go, Patton.”

* * *

An hour later, Virgil trailed Patton in and out of squat, humid greenhouses, watching his sort-of-kind-of foster father marvel over every sprout.

“Ooh, maybe I could plant some strawberries this year,” Patton said, lifting a red glazed pot to admire. 

The gentle air carried the loamy scent of greenery and soil. Virgil breathed in, letting the aroma fill his lungs. His family had never had a garden, but he was beginning to see the appeal. 

“Then again, I don’t have much experience with fruit...ah, what the heck! It can’t hurt to give it a try,” Patton said, nestling the pot in his basket with a satisfied smile. 

“Do we have enough now?” Virgil asked, eyeing the piles of tulip bulbs, tomato plants, and basil sprouts the strawberries had joined. 

“Not quite yet. I still need to find some sunflower seeds. My absolute favorite flower,” Patton gave him a grin. 

Virgil shifted, readjusting the tray of baby’s breath he was holding. It wasn’t terrible, going shopping with Patton. He liked the man’s unfiltered enthusiasm, even if he didn’t really understand it. Sure, sometimes Patton was clearly faking it, but it seemed more like he was doing it for his own sake rather than to lure others into a false sense of security. Not like that fake stuff some of his foster parents put on, as if Virgil couldn’t see straight through the fixed smiles and empty sympathies. 

“Hey, Patton?”

“Hmm? Yes, Virgil?”

“Do you mind us being here? I mean, you didn’t really ask for any of this,” Virgil said, resolutely staring at a spot past Patton’s shoulder, his jaw set. He did not care what the answer was. It didn’t matter, and he didn’t care.

Patton set the basket on the ground at his feet. Gently, he took the baby’s breath from Virgil arms, running his fingers over the leaves to uncover the tiny white blossoms. 

“I’ll admit, this whole thing came as a major surprise, but a good surprise. I like having you kids around,” Patton said.

“But you don’t even  _ know _ us,” Virgil persisted. “Janus has to deal with us because we’re family, but you aren’t obligated to do anything. And you have to put up with your ex on top of everything else.”

Patton flinched at the word  _ ex,  _ and for a moment Virgil worried he was being too blunt. His dad used to say that Virgil didn’t bullshit, that it was his greatest strength as well as his Achilles heel. Maybe it was cruel of him to bring up all of Patton’s issues so casually.

“Janus and I...well, things are complicated. But we don’t hate each other. I’m happy to do him a favor, for old time’s sake,” Patton avoided Virgil’s gaze, inspecting the price labels on the packets of cucumber seeds for sale.

“Big favor,” Virgil said dryly.

“You know, you’re not as much of a burden as you think you are,” Patton remarked, dropping a few of the cucumber packets into the basket.

Something sharp and cold lodged itself right between Virgil’s ribs. The words were simple, said with casual honesty. But they summoned a flood of grievances to Virgil’s mind. How many times had he bristled at the veiled comments his foster parents had made when Roman outgrew another pair of shoes? How often had they changed the subject when Virgil brought up Logan’s desperate need of an eye appointment? 

The cycle never changed.

An achingly nice foster family, so devoted to helping these poor orphans in their hour of dire need. Their sweet lies and the promises they never committed to. Always willfully ignorant of each brothers’ habits and needs. They didn’t care about Remus’ nightmares, they just wanted him to stay quiet. They wrinkled their noses at the patches on Virgil's hoodie, but ignored him when he said it was to cover the holes he'd worn into it. He and his brothers were meant to sit still and be their obedient charity cases, to show off to their church congregation and Facebook feeds. The day it got too difficult, the minute the boys made a mistake or stepped out of line, the very second they were asked to make the slightest sacrifice of time or effort or money, it was over. Virgil, Logan, Roman, and Remus were sent on their way. 

“Virgil! Are you all right, kiddo?” Patton asked, alarmed.

“What?” he croaked, surprised to find a lump obstructing his throat. Something wet dripped from his jaw.

Horror gripped him. He was crying, and once he realized that, the tears started flowing uncontrollably. His neck and face bloomed hot, and Virgil could picture the blotches on his face. With a few more tremulous gaps, he would be full-on sobbing, in a public greenhouse, right in front of a man he’d known for only a handful of weeks. 

“I’m sorry--I’m just, um. I’m fine,” Virgil stammered out, trying in vain to keep his voice even. He pressed his hands over his eyes, desperately hoping to regain his composure.

What the hell was wrong with him? He hadn’t cried like this since...well, he couldn’t remember. Certainly not since way before his parents died.

“Oh no no no, I didn’t mean to make you cry. Come here,” Patton pulled Virgil into a tight hug, enveloping him.

Virgil gasped, startled by the sudden contact. He shuddered, a sob racking him. He couldn’t bring himself to return the hug, but he leaned into Patton, letting his warmth seep into him. For the past year, Virgil had only embraced others to comfort them. His brothers, mostly. He’d forgotten how it felt to receive such comfort. He’d forgotten that it could be returned at all. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Patton murmured, stroking Virgil’s purple hair. 

“I’m sorry,” Virgil choked out.

“Don’t be sorry. I meant what I said. Just because you need a little help right now, just because you’re hurting, does not make you a burden. Not at all. And I’m so sorry someone made you feel that way.”

Patton allowed Virgil to disentangle himself, then took him by the shoulders. Virgil swiped his cheeks with his sleeves, a strange sense of contentment replacing the ache in his chest, even as the last few tears escaped his eyes and traced down his cheeks. 

“All right?” Patton asked.

“All right,” Virgil confirmed softly.

“Good. Now let’s go find those sunflowers.”


	15. Roman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman and Janus talk about stories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Labor Day weekend, which meant I had time to write, so consider this chapter my Labor Day gift to you all. 
> 
> Mild warnings for typical Remus shenanigans, though he doesn't physically show up in this chapter, and his shenanigans are merely discussed.

Roman furiously scrubbed the tears from his face, bursting into the large dining room. Colored pencils clattered at his feet, falling loose from the crushed papers and art supplies clasped close to his chest. 

Janus looked up from his place at the empty dinner table, glancing over him quickly before returning his attention to the scattered pages spread out in front of him. 

“Hello, Roman,” he said, distracted.

Roman glared at him. When he’d heard they’d be moving in with their dad’s brother, Roman had hoped that Janus would be like his dad. Funny, and strong. And kind. But his uncle was more like Virgil, bossing people around and not letting Roman eat candy after brushing his teeth. Or like Remus, saying weird things instead of telling the truth about being afraid.

Remus, who pretended nothing was ever wrong. Who wanted to put monsters in their next puppet show, even though it was only supposed to be about two princes trying to cross a river. Who kept arguing about it, and saying there was something wrong with Roman if he wanted to make such boring stories. 

_ I’m not the one who’s got something wrong with them,  _ Roman had muttered, coloring the river so hard it left grooves in the paper.

_ What?  _ Remus had asked, going still. 

_ I said, I’m not the one who’s got something wrong with him. _

_ There’s nothing wrong with me. _

_ Yeah, there is. Normal people don’t talk about mermaids eating people in rivers, or parents getting splattered on highways. _

_ I am normal!  _ Remus had balled his fists, breathing hard. 

Roman had been happy to see it, happy in a dark, evil way. It was always Remus who made Roman upset, who made Roman cry. It felt good to be the mean one, this time.

_ If you’re normal, you wouldn’t be having those nightmares. Normal people don’t dream about stuff like that,  _ Roman had said, and it’d felt like winning a battle and losing it all at once. 

Remus had pushed him, Roman striking the floor, his shoulder screaming. Sobbing, he’d gathered up his drawings and stormed out.

Now, he threw those same drawings and art supplies to the floor, watching them fan out against the wooden floor with satisfying crumples and clackings. Janus looked up again, startled. Roman glared at him, sight blurring, hating every inch of this uncle who was not his dad, not like him at all, then crossed his arms and defiantly ducked under the dinner table to hide. 

Roman crouched, seething, silently daring Janus to do something, even as tears dripped onto his socks. He wanted to yell at somebody, anybody, even though he’d already yelled at Remus and all that did was make him feel like a bad guy, but why should that matter, Remus was the one who acted like a bad guy, and all he wanted was someone who’d listen to him and not pretend things were the same because  _ nothing was the same but nobody seemed to care-- _

The floor creaked. 

Roman watched Janus’ socked feet carefully approach the mess of puppet play planning, and stop just short of skittering a yellow-brown crayon. Roman imagined Janus studying the pictures, the same way he studied whatever important papers he was always looking at. 

“These are really quite good. I admire the bold direction you took of depicting everyone’s clothes as if they were made entirely out of glitter,” Janus’ voice snaked its way under the table. 

Roman couldn’t tell if he was making fun of him or not. He bit his tongue. That was something his mom had read to him in a story once, and it did a good job of keeping him from talking.

Janus crouched down, and now Roman could see him fully. He really was studying the pictures, and he traced the bank of the imaginary river with his fingers. 

“Another fight with Remus?” he asked, still keeping his eyes on the drawing. 

“He keeps trying to mess up our stories,” Roman said, defending himself. 

“How is he messing up your story?” Janus looked at him curiously.

“ _ Our _ story,” Roman corrected. It was always their story. As angry as Remus made him sometimes, he couldn’t imagine making one without him.

“Right, sorry. How is he messing up  _ the  _ story?”

“He wants to put monsters in it. Monster mermaids that eat people’s arms,” he said. With the words out in the open, they suddenly seemed small and silly. He pulled his knees to his chest, his shoulder twinging.

“And you don’t want the...monster mermaids, then,” Janus said, looking like Roman really had said something silly.

“No!” Roman cried, burying his face into the crook of his arm. “No! It’s supposed to be about two princes that have to sail across a dangerous, rushing river, and then they get to the other side and kiss! They get to be happy. And that’s it.” 

Janus shifted, moving closer to Roman. He raised his hand and braced against the edge of the table, still crouching.

“Well, if it’s really both yours and Remus’ story, why can’t you add the mermaid? They can still be safe and happy at the end, right?” Janus rested his chin on his other hand, and the question felt like it came from a teacher.

“You don’t get it,” Roman said, turning away. “It has to be a good ending. They have to be scared, but know that it’s going to turn out all right. If we put the mermaids in, they won’t think that. It’ll be scary, and they won’t know it’s going to be okay. And they might not be happy when it’s over.”

He fiddled with the velcro on his sneakers.

“When really bad things happen, people don’t get to be the same kind of happy they were before.”

Janus didn’t say anything for a long time. Roman peeked at him from behind his arm, worried. Now, it looked like Janus had been asked a question by the teacher, like he didn’t really know the answer and was afraid of messing up. 

“You like doing these shows? Making them up and acting them out?” Janus finally asked.

“Yeah!” Roman nodded, the pain in his shoulder fading. “It’s one of my favorite things, I love it  _ so much _ . Me and Remus have been doing it since we were really little, and we’d do it in the living room and the whole family would watch.”

Janus smiled, and it was like all his other smiles. Small, and kind of sad.

“I used to do something similar. There’s a community theater group in town, and a few years back I used to act with them quite regularly.”

“What’s a community theater?” Roman asked, wrinkling his nose.

“Like a club, for putting on plays. A little Broadway, a little Shakespeare. Whatever struck our fancy.”

“Kind of like me and Remus’ stuff?”

“Yes, just a bit scaled up.”

“And you liked it?”

“I loved it,” Janus smiled, this time with less sadness. He stared off somewhere in the distance. 

“Anyway, that’s not the point I was trying to make,” he said suddenly, the smile disappearing. He rubbed his burned wrist, and continued.

“What I was working up towards is, do you know what character I played, almost every single time?”

“A prince?” Roman guessed, bouncing with excitement.

“The bad guy,” Janus said.

“Oh,” Roman deflated.

“Yeah, you play a good Don John one time, and suddenly every director is telling you how perfect you’d be for the next villain role,” Janus sighed. 

“But, the villain is always fun to play. It’s almost healing, to indulge your dark side. As long as it doesn’t actually hurt anyone. I think that’s what Remus is doing, with all his theatrics.”

“But villains are evil!” Roman protested. It didn’t seem like his brother was healing when he acted like the bad twin.

“Not every villain is evil. Villains have all sorts of motivations, good and bad, just like the heroes,” Janus said.

“But...but they mess everything up!” Roman insisted. Janus wasn’t making any sense.

“Well, yeah, villains mess everything up. That’s the point.”

“But that’s bad!”

“Of course. If it wasn’t, they wouldn’t be the villain.”

Roman was getting frustrated. 

“But the stories would be so much better if there wasn’t a villain,” he finally said.

“Would they, though?” Janus asked, tilting his head. He sounded like a teacher again.

“Yes! Because everybody would be happy!” Roman wasn’t sure which part Janus wasn’t getting.

“Let me ask you something. What would  _ The Lion King  _ be like without Scar? Or, how would  _ Cinderella  _ play out without an Evil Stepmother?” 

Roman thought about it. 

“...I guess they’d be really different. A lot of the story wouldn’t even happen,” he said reluctantly.

“Exactly,” Janus snapped his fingers. “Every story has to have conflict. Sure, crossing a river is a conflict. So are killer mermaids. Only one of those is an actual villain, but both can work if you play your cards right.”

“But,” Roman hugged himself. “But what if the conflict is too big? What if it’s so big that the characters can’t be happy afterwards? What if they never feel like they used to before, ever again?”

Janus ducked under the table. He had to hunch over to keep from hitting his head, but he settled in next to Roman, crossing his legs.

“That’s always a risk. In a perfect world, everyone would get the happiness they deserve. But it’s almost impossible to be the same kind of happy, your whole entire life. And that’s what makes life...interesting, I suppose. Maybe not fun, and definitely very unfair. But experiencing conflict, whether it’s small or big, irritating or devastating, and surviving it, finding a way to be happy after everything, even if it’s not the same kind of happy as before? That’s what makes life interesting, and worth living. That’s what makes the conflict worth it. And that’s what makes a story worth telling, too.” 

Roman looked at his uncle. He definitely wasn’t like his dad. And maybe, that was okay.

“I guess we could put the mermaids in the story. Only one or two, though,” Roman said, tracing the whorls in the floor.

“I can’t wait to see it.”

Janus’ words made something inside Roman glow. 

“Dad used to say that,” he whispered.

“What?”

“Dad used to say that. Whenever me and Remus came up with a new idea and said there’d be a puppet show or a play, he’d say that he couldn’t wait to see it. Every time, no matter what the idea was. And then mom would make popcorn and pretend it was a movie theater. And afterwards, they’d both review us, like they were writing for a newspaper, and it’d always be five stars.” 

The glow in Roman grew bigger and brighter as he remembered. He missed it so much that it hurt, more than the pain in his shoulder, more than the fight with Remus. But remembering made him feel better afterwards. It was something his brothers didn’t seem to understand.

Janus’ expression was strange. His eyes were wide, and he stared at Roman like he was saying something really important. But he looked uncomfortable, too. Just like his brothers whenever he started talking about mom and dad. Roman shrank back.

“But nobody likes to hear about that stuff, anymore,” he added quietly. 

“Hey,” Janus reached out, very slowly and gently, like Roman was a bunny rabbit he didn’t want to scare away, and he put a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t mind hearing about that stuff. I’ve got a lot of stories about Horace of my own, too.”

“Really?” Roman asked, the question coming out more scared than he wanted it to. He didn’t want Janus to change his mind, and the hurt feeling inside of him grew again.

“Yeah, if you want to hear them. And I’d like to hear yours, too” Janus looked away, swallowing. “I miss him.”

A knot in Roman’s heart unwound. He wasn’t the only one, and it was wonderful and terrible at the same time. Somebody else missed his dad, and somebody else wanted to remember him.  _ He wasn’t the only one. _

Roman and Janus swapped stories under the table until the sunlight grew dim.


	16. Janus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys finally have proper beds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obligatory apology for how long it's been since the last update. Still pretty caught up with classwork, and also I was having trouble figuring out what I wanted these two to do and say in this chapter. Also I have 3-4 other fic ideas battling for my attention, as well as half a dozen original works too. None of them learned how to share in kindergarten and I am reaping the consequences. Warnings for mild language.

“You got it?” Janus asked, adjusting his grip on the plastic sleeve covering their cargo.

“Uh-huh,” Patton said, from the opposite end of the mattress. 

“Great. Let’s take it slow, one step at a time.”

They edged up the front path, their steps scraping the stones in time. Janus had blown an entire paycheck on proper bed frames, mattresses, and bedding for all four of the boys, and now that they’d been delivered, he was paying the physical toll, too. 

“Ack!” Patton yelped, his shoulder colliding with the frame of the front door. Janus winced in sympathy.

Remus appeared in the hallway, his socks slipping against the varnished wood. The bright gleam in his eye made Janus’ stomach drop. His nephew raced toward them at full speed, as if to collide straight into the mattress.

“Remus, no--” he started, but at the last moment, the boy dropped to his knees and slid underneath, as if Patton and Janus were carrying a limbo stick solely for his entertainment.

“Ten points to me!” Remus shouted, fists pumping. “See if you can beat that, Roman!”

Roman, who had been watching the whole thing from the hallways entrance, stuck out his tongue.   
“Next one’s mine for sure,” he declared.

“All right, all right, you two,” Janus rolled his eyes. “Go eat your lunch like I said.”

The two scampered away, screeching with laughter, as if Janus hadn’t said anything at all. 

“You act like that’s not the third time they've done that today,” Patton said. He stuck his head around the edge of the mattress and grinned.

“Yeah, and I’m sure they’ll do it a fourth time when we come back with Logan’s,” Janus said.

“Well, yeah, but at least they’re having fun.”

Janus could think of many other ways they could ‘have fun’ that didn’t involve unpredictable movements around heavy furniture, but he kept them to himself.

They reached the staircase, taking each step with caution. Janus’ arms ached, but he kept that to himself as well. Just one more after this, and they’d have every bed in its proper room. Then Janus would receive the high honor of assembling all four of the corresponding bed frames himself. Maybe he could get Logan to read the instructions. The kid seemed like the type to actually enjoy that sort of thing.

Patton tripped on the last step. Janus fumbled, bracing to keep the mattress steady. 

“Oh dear, oh dear,” Patton blurted, catching himself on the banister and balancing the mattress against his shoulder.

“Take it easy, Patton, it’s fine. But please continue carrying this thing at some point,” said Janus, straining.

“Oopys-daisy, okay, I got it now. Sorry!” Patton flashed him a bright smile, and for a moment Janus couldn’t get air into his lungs. Damn it. This kept happening, and it needed to stop.

“I forgot how clumsy you are,” Janus said, needing a distraction to get his respiratory system working again.

Patton’s smile faded. Too late, Janus realized how that sounded. Shit.

Well, that was one way to take care of that problem. He’d have to look into a solution that didn’t make him feel like an ass, though. 

Janus pretended his mouth was sewn shut for the rest of their trip across the landing and into the little office that served as Virgil’s bedroom. He’d always had a habit of insulting people, purposefully or not, and this was a tactic he used to keep himself from burning more bridges than were necessary. At the very least, it’d definitely saved him from a few fights.

They let the mattress flop on the floor with a reverberating thump that rattled the delicate glass frog figurines, coated with dust on the unused desk. Patton blew out a puff of air, placing his fists on his waist with a satisfied nod. 

Janus stretched, trying to work out the twinges in his lower back. Just one of the many perks of being over thirty. 

As if thinking the exact same thing, Patton said “I must be getting old. Three trips, and I’m already all tuckered out.”

He slowly laid down on the floor with a drawn-out groan, arranging himself with his arms spread straight out in a T. Janus peered down at him, a smile trying very hard to break his expression.

“How’s the view?” he asked, placing a fist under his chin in mock interest.

Patton looked Janus straight in the eyes. 

“Gorgeous,” he said simply.

Janus chose that moment to quickly join him on the floor, clasping his hands over his stomach. Otherwise, Patton would have seen the utter panic on his face. Also, all his major organs felt like they were trying to exit his body through his throat, and he needed something firm to steady himself and focus on keeping them where they belonged.

The old floorboards and ratty carpet were warm from hours of basking in the midday sunlight, streaming in through the cracks in the blinds. As Janus lay there, his head inches from Patton, he watched the motes of dust they had disturbed flicker in and out of existence, between shadows and light. In that moment, Janus had the oddest conviction that his heart and Patton’s were beating in time, as one. 

He turned his head, his cheek laying flat against the floor, about to say something horribly sentimental when he noticed the expression on Patton’s face. 

His ex-husband stared blankly at the ceiling, eyes unfocused. The rise and fall of his chest told Janus his breath was steady, and there were no other outward signs of distress. But the emptiness of that expression disturbed Janus, like watching a snake slither back into its shed skin. It was against some law of nature. Nothing about Patton was blank. Every inch of him glowed in its own way, always moving, emoting, interacting with the world. He did not _ zone out _ , not unless something was wrong. And after weeks of staying with him, Janus was beginning to believe that was the case. 

“All right, love?” he asked. 

“Hmm?” Patton jerked.

Too late, Janus processed his words. That little term of endearment had snuck out from some subconscious part of his mind, one that apparently hadn’t gotten the memo about the divorce. It was such an old thing, something he’d said to Patton back in college, while plastered in the backseat of his car. They’d only just started dating at that point. Usually, pet names made Janus’ skin crawl, but Patton had loved it so much, gushing about it for a full week afterward, that he couldn’t help but keep it. And for some reason, when it was Patton, it had never felt wrong. 

But that was in the past, and should have stayed there. Like so many other things. Janus cursed himself silently, wishing he’d actually sewn his lips shut. He opened his mouth to make some sort of awkward apology, but Patton rubbed his face, sighing, like he’d just come out of a deep sleep.

“Sorry, I must have spaced out there,” he chuckled weakly, sitting up. “We should probably grab Logan’s mattress before someone picks it off the curb for us.”

He stood, making his way back to the hall. Janus sat up too, watching him go. He almost believed he hadn’t heard him. He would’ve believed that, if it weren’t for the careful way Patton avoided his eyes. 

  
  
  



	17. Patton

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus learns to knit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which I don't know how knitting works so I stay as vague about it as possible to cover for that.
> 
> So I'm back with an update after so very long. Majoring in STEM is not for the faint of heart, kids. Anyways, I'm on break now, so I'll be back to my weekly updates until February (with any luck). Thanks for your patience!

Patton examined the half-knit scarf, turning it over in his hands. The yarn was soft on his fingers, though--he wrinkled his nose--it had picked up a smell from all the moldy dishes it’d been mingling with down there. 

He hadn’t worked on it in months, he realized with more than a small pang of guilt. Part of him wanted to shove the thing back under his bed, needles and all, and forget about it. After all, he knew how this would end; he’d work on it, start feeling good about it again, then get distracted by a self-loathing spiral, let it sit around for weeks gathering dust and only feeding into the spiral, before he finally shoved it somewhere he didn’t have to look at. Come to think of it, that’s probably how it ended up under the bed in the first place. 

It was such a nice scarf, though, half-finished as it was. A gorgeous pattern of yellow and blue. He’d been trying to mimic the sky on a sunny day. And it was so dusty and forlorn looking, crumpled under the bed. Like an abandoned child. It didn’t belong with all the trash he’d let pile up, too apathetic to care. 

Patton kneeled there until his knees were sore, plucking at the loose yarn and mulling it over, when a curious voice interrupted his thoughts.

“Hey, what’s that?”

Patton started, adjusting his glasses and blinking at the skinny figure in his bedroom doorway. Remus.

The child’s head tilted quizzically, eyes locked on the scarf. The tulle of his tutu was smeared with glitter, and it looked like nobody had managed to hold him down and brush his hair in a while. 

“Oh! Um, it’s a scarf. Well, half of one, anyway,” Patton stood up, wincing at the twinge in his knees. 

“Did you make it?” Remus asked, tilting his head to the other side as he did so. It reminded Patton uncomfortably of a vulture, surveying the newest piece of roadkill. 

“I knit it, yes,” he admitted. He felt a strange urge to hide it behind his back. 

Patton was used to all sorts of children, especially young ones. His preschoolers came to him in all states of socialization, and he did his best to guide all of them with patience and an appreciation for their own unique spark. And he’d met plenty who, like Remus, had a morbid streak running through them. 

Those students never lived in his home, though.

It wasn’t that Patton was scared of Remus. That would be foolish, and unfair to the boy. But there was definitely an intensity to him, some sort of raw energy that compelled Patton to keep track of where he was, so the kid wouldn’t sneak up on him. A sort of aura that made him clutch his sorry little scarf a bit closer. 

No doubt that same intensity fueled the gleam in Remus’ eyes, and his next question came out more like a demand. 

“Can I see?”

Patton blinked, then nodded hesitantly. He held out the scarf--there was no harm in letting him see it, right?-- and Remus bounded over to take it.

“Careful of the knitting needles, they’re sharp,” he cautioned.

Remus turned the scarf over, surprisingly gentle as he stroked the yarn. Patton watched with trepidation. 

“It looks like a sunny sky,” Remus finally said, a soft smile on his lips.

Patton, taken off guard, could only beam.

“I wish I could do this. I’d make a green and brown one, and maybe add a little yellow too, so it looked like a garbage dump with like, toxic waste and mutants in it.” Remus said. His smile morphed into something rabid.

Oh dear.

Patton paused, and tried reframing his perspective. It’s important to nurture children’s imaginations, after all. Even if those imaginations contained some...icky things. And maybe, just maybe, having a calm, creative outlet would keep Remus from picking fights with his brothers. And leaving slugs from the backyard in the pantry. 

“You know, Remus, if you’d really like to learn to knit, I could teach you,” Patton offered, coming to his decision.

Remus’ head shot up, and Patton swore his pupils dilated. 

“Really? Really really really?” Remus said, punctuating every ‘really’ with a little hop. 

“Yeah, absolutely!” Patton smiled what he hoped was an encouraging smile, and began fishing under his bed again. “Now I know the rest of my knitting supplies are around here somewhere...ah, there we are!”

He dragged out a butter-yellow cloth basket, rumpled but still filled with all the essential knitting supplies. At the sight of this, Remus’ hops got more insistent. Patton plopped the basket on his bed, smoothed over his sheets a bit, then sat down. He patted the spot beside him, and Remus clambered up. 

“We can start by finishing this scarf,” he said, gesturing at the little length of sky Remus still held. “And then I could help you make a pattern for that other idea you had?”

“Okay!” Remus agreed, wiggling a little in excitement. 

“Hmm,” Patton busied himself untangling the yarn, debating what to start with. Catching sight of how tightly Remus clutched the knitting needles, he said “How about we learn how to hold and move the needles?” 

Remus seemed to consider this, then nodded firmly. “Okay!”

* * *

The two of them passed the long afternoon like that, Patton haphazardly demonstrating knitting techniques as they occurred to him. By the time Virgil joined them (with snacks!), Remus was clumsily but diligently adding rows to Patton’s scarf. 

“I’ve never seen him sit still for this long,” Virgil said around the licorice lace in his mouth, eyes wide. “It’s kind of scary.”

Remus glared at him, but blessedly did nothing further.

“I’m surprised by how fast he caught on. Knitting isn’t as easy as it looks,” Patton said to Virgil. 

“He’s a fast learner when it comes to things he actually wants to learn about,” said Virgil. 

There was still so much to learn about these kids who’d come into his life so unexpectedly. Patton would miss them when they left. 

“You’re doing really well, kiddo. I’m proud of you,” Patton said, turning to Remus and tussling his hair. Remus shooed his hands away, still quiet. 

Maybe he was too engrossed in his knitting to speak, or maybe it was the licorice stashed in his cheek. But Patton chose to believe the reason behind Remus’ silence was the shy smile he was trying so hard to hide.


	18. Janus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Janus gets some good news, and he and Logan celebrate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a complete coincidence that the weekly friday update just happened to line up with christmas, but here we are. If you celebrate, I hope you had a wonderful holiday. Regardless, I hope you all had a wonderful day
> 
> Warnings: Snakes
> 
> See end chapter notes for a disclaimer

“Okay? Okay,” Janus said into the phone. “Right. Perfect. Thank you, Valerie. I’ll see you then.”

Janus hung up, unable to suppress his grin. Relief washed over. Finally, finally, something was going right. 

Without really thinking about it, he called out.

“Patton! I got the job!”

“What?” Patton called back, somewhere distant in the house.

Before Janus could repeat himself, footsteps ricocheted down the hall, and Patton practically skidded into the sitting room Janus used as an excuse for a bedroom. 

“You got it?” he asked breathlessly, face glowing with excitement.

Janus’ grin intensified, if that were possible. “I start Monday!”

“Oh gosh, that’s great!” Patton rushed towards him, taking Janus’ hands in his own. He squeezed them gleefully. For once, Janus didn’t pull away. Too taken up in his emotions, he squeezed back.

They stayed like that for a second too long, beaming at each other like fools. 

Patton pulled away first, though the smile remained. “We should celebrate! Go out to eat. Or make a nice dessert.”

“Oh, don’t be silly," Janus waved a dismissive hand. "It’s just a job, nothing special. It’s not like I’m sixteen." All the things still left to do crowded back into his mind, and his joy subsided.

“Come on! It’s a new beginning. You should commemorate it.”

Janus looked away to hide his skepticism. Patton and his new beginnings. Everything was a sign of something brighter on the horizon for him. Sometimes, Janus wished he could see the world the way he did. 

He didn’t need that right now, though. He needed to stay focused and stay on course. No distractions, especially ones that required him to be happy and in public.

“Patton, you know I’m not much for celebrations.”

Patton deflated, almost imperceptibly, though his exuberant glow didn’t dim. 

“Yeah, I know. You’ve just been working so hard lately, and juggling so much. You deserve something good…” he trailed off, cocking his head like something had just occurred to him. He looked back at Janus.

“You should get a snake,” he said.

Janus blinked. “What?”

“You should get a snake,” Patton repeated, his enthusiasm gaining steam. “You said you haven’t had one for a while. And I know how much you like having snakes.”

“I just got a job working with snakes, and you want me to go and buy one, so I can come home to more snakes?” Janus raised an eyebrow.

Patton pouted. “Hey now, you had one when we were married, and you were working with snakes then, too.”

“Yeah, and you were terrified of it, Patton.”

“I got used to it,” he protested. 

“I won’t even be here long enough to justify bringing a pet into your house,” Janus pointed out. 

“A pet snake?” a voice interjected from the doorway. Janus and Patton whipped around.

Logan stood there, clutching one of his never-ending stream of books, eyes alight. 

Janus cleared his throat. Damn it. “We were...discussing it, yes.”

Logan’s eyes lit up brighter, and he hugged his book closer. He seemed to be vibrating with the effort to maintain his composure. This might be the most animated Janus had ever seen him.

“If you decide to take that course of action, I would very much like to join you,” Logan said, his meticulous speech failing to hide his eagerness.

Janus exchanged a look with Patton. 

Logan caught their glance. He faltered, effortlessly rearranging his expression back into a blank mask. 

“I mean--I know you are a herpetologist, and I like learning about animals. I thought you would know a lot. About snakes, that is. I thought it could be...fun,” he said, reserved. He stared resolutely at a spot past their shoulders. 

Out of all his nephews, Logan was the most enigmatic to Janus. Always subdued, always composed, and never excessive, like a child raised by wealthy Victorians. Even when they were alone together, Janus could never coax a conversation out of him. Logan’s walls were impeccably sealed and maintained, something Janus found equal parts impressive and maddening.

Out of all things, though, the possibility of a pet snake exposed the first gap in his fortifications. Janus might not get a chance like this again. 

Patton jerked his head meaningfully in Logan’s direction. Right. There was only one reasonable course of action to take. 

“All right, Logan, grab your shoes. Apparently, we’re getting a snake.”

* * *

Logan had his shoes and coat on before Janus had even found his keys, and spent the entire car ride peppering him with facts and questions. With each one, another layer of formality shed itself, until the child in the backseat actually resembled an eleven year old.

“Constricting snakes don’t actually crush or asphyxiate their prey, you know. They really disrupt blood flow, which causes organ failure,” Logan informed him.

Janus did know this, of course, but since these were the most words he’d ever exchanged with his nephew, he decided to keep that to himself. 

“Not a pretty way to go,” he commented, pulling into the parking lot. They got out, making their way to the store.

“Do snakes eat bats?" asked Logan. "Bats are kind of like mice and rats, and I know snakes eat that." He skipped alongside Janus, the question stuttering out between hops.

“Oh yes, there are many snakes that will eat a bat if they can get their hands on one,” Janus said. Catching sight of an approaching car, he instinctively grabbed Logan’s hand. 

Logan frowned, and for a moment Janus worried he was uncomfortable with the physical contact. Janus eyed their hands, his twisted by scars, Logan’s small and fragile-looking against it.

“Snakes don’t have hands,” Logan finally pointed out.

“Metaphorical hands,” Janus amended, releasing the tension built up in his shoulders.

If Logan had been unusually talkative in the car, he became a full-blown conversationalist in the store. Janus weaved in and out of aisles, retrieving all the necessary snake care supplies, and Logan asked questions about the purposes of each one. Janus gave explanations that were probably far too in-depth, but his nephew absorbed it like a sponge, demanding more. In between the Q&A, Logan leapt between topics like a lull in conversation was lava, touching on African antelopes, neutron stars, and the Medicis. 

_This is nice,_ Janus thought, as the two of them chattered away. In truth, this might be the most he himself had talked in a while. Definitely the most he’d talked about snakes with a willing participant. Not since Patton had anyone tolerated his impassioned lectures on reptiles. 

“Why are we getting a ball python?” Logan asked, scanning the myriad of snake tanks in front of them.

“Every snake should be handled with respect, but ball pythons are generally docile,” Janus said, scanning right along with him. “That’s a good thing when you have a bunch of kids running around.”

Logan nodded sagely, as if he wasn’t one of said kids. He stood on slight tiptoe to get a better look into the tanks.

“I like that one,” Logan pointed, indicating a pastel morph relaxing under a faux-rock overhang. It flicked its tongue at them. 

Janus smiled. A classic. “Fair enough. We’ve got everything we need. Let’s go find the clerk.”

Twenty minutes later, Logan sat in the backseat, observing the new snake tentatively exploring the bare aquarium next to him. Janus was already mentally setting up the tank for when they arrived home.

Logan was quiet again, but not the cold silence of stone walls. More like the peaceful silence of a library late at night, or an early morning snow. For once, Janus didn’t feel like the kid loathed his presence.

Maybe more than one thing had gone right today. Maybe, things would even continue going right. They all certainly needed it.

_This is nice,_ he thought. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So in the process of researching for this chapter, I learned that it's not actually a good idea to get a snake from a pet store, since they 're not the most ethical suppliers (surprise surprise). It's a better idea to get them from small-scale breeders, or adopt one. Getting into that with this chapter would have been too much of a distraction from the plot, though. So we're all going to say that in this au, pet stores are always good institutions, and someone trained in herpetology and snake-keeping would have no objections to buying their snakes from them. Because we all wish that were true


	19. Patton

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patton finally admits the truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not have as much time to edit this as I would have liked, especially with a chapter this important, but I think it turned out okay. The pacing feels a little funky, but I can live with that. 
> 
> Again, complete coincidence that this fell on New Year's Day, but it fits nicely with the theme of this chapter. Making a breakthrough and resolving to do something about it, and all that.
> 
> Here's to a half-way decent 2021
> 
> Warnings: heavy discussion of depression and grief, allusions to the loss of a child and long-term injuries, depressive thoughts (though no suicide mentions), symptoms of depression

Patton didn’t know what happened. This last week had been one good day after the next. He made preparations for a new garden, he connected with some of the boys, he cleaned up parts of life. There were smiles that were actually genuine, and real emotions that weren’t entirely self-hatred. He’d even started nurturing a fragile hope that he was finally turning a corner.

How stupid of him. 

Maybe he’d spread his happiness too thick. Wasted it all on actual warmth and emotion, and now he didn’t have any reserves left to be a functioning person. 

Because whatever Patton was doing right now, it definitely couldn’t be called ‘functioning’. More like disintegrating.

Disintegrating into his mattress, which he hadn’t left for more than a bathroom break in a week. Disintegrating into the darkness of his room, his lights stubbornly shut off and his blinds tightly closed. Disintegrating into days-old pajamas and skin that hadn’t seen a shower for far too long.

He told Janus it was the flu, though it wasn’t even flu season. Janus brought him meals and didn’t believe him. 

Patton no longer cared about his cheery facade anymore. He hadn’t been that man since his son died. The jig was up now. No point in pretending. It was almost freeing, like he was a soldier finally being sent home from the front. He could rest now. Disintegrate.

“Patton,” Janus said to his back.

Patton stirred. He hadn't heard him come in. He turned over, squinting against the light of the hall that Janus had let in.

“Yes, darling?” he said, almost as a joke. An old pet name. 

Judging by Janus’ expression, neither of them found it funny.

“I brought a sandwich. You didn’t come down for lunch.” He said it like Patton hadn’t been missing lunch for a week now. 

“Thanks,” Patton said, taking the plate, Janus almost forcing it into his hands.

He sat uselessly with it in his lap, waiting for Janus to leave.

Janus wasn’t leaving. 

“Thanks,” Patton tried again.  _ Please leave,  _ he willed.

“I brought one for myself, too,” Janus said, and Patton swore he materialized a second plate into his hands. “We haven’t talked in a while. I thought you might be lonely up here.”

His words were compassionate, but Patton knew that tone. It was the _I’m-going-to-get-to-the-bottom-of-this-if-it-kills-both-of-us_ tone. Patton shrank away.  _ Please, just leave.  _

He said nothing as Janus arranged himself at the end of the bed, fixing him with a hard stare. Patton bit mechanically into the sandwich, trying his best to ignore him.

“Patton.”

Patton chewed, keeping his eyes firmly downcast.

“Patton, please look at me.”

Janus’ voice turned soft, pleading, and it broke right through Patton’s flimsy defenses. He raised his eyes and met Janus’ gaze.

“I think you may have depression.”

Patton flinched, a lump of turkey sticking in his throat. He knew he’d been doing a poor job of hiding it. He knew that. But to acknowledge it so directly, when Patton himself so carefully danced around it, even within his own mind, hit like a knife between his ribs. 

Patton’s weary brain tried to conjure some excuse or compelling counter-argument, but only succeeded in stumbling around his next words.

“What? No, no, I’m fine. This is just--it’s just a funk. I’ll get out of it eventually.”

Janus didn’t argue. If anything, he softened even more.

“And how long has this ‘funk’ lasted?” he asked.

Patton opened his mouth, and shut it. There wasn’t a decent answer to give, so he ignored the question.

Janus, apparently taking his silence as answer enough, continued. “I’ve been noticing things. You used to be a morning person, but now you sleep into the late afternoon. And you still seem so exhausted, all the time. I barely see you baking, or knitting. You don’t even garden anymore. And then you get sick like this, but for the life of me I can’t find a temperature.”

Now Patton glared at him, willing him to stop. He didn’t need to hear this. He didn’t  _ want _ to hear this. 

Janus didn’t stop.

“And...other things, too. Little changes in your behavior. You’re just...not who you used to be. And it worries me.”

Something panicked and angry rose up Patton’s throat, something like an animal backed into a corner.

“You left. You chose to leave. What makes you think you know anything about my life anymore?” he snapped. 

Janus flinched back, hurt flashing across face. Guilt burned at Patton, but he set his jaw. He just needed him to stop. That’s all he was trying to do. 

Janus settled his hands on his knees, steadying himself. When he spoke, his words pierced Patton like a bullet.

“Patton, I loved you. You think I don’t know when you’re forcing a smile?”

At that, something deep inside Patton splintered, and it was like the last beam holding up his psyche gave away. His throat constricted.

“I--” Patton’s words came out cracked, and he buried his face in his hands. Muffled by tears he could barely hold back, he staggered on. “I don’t know why--I mean, it’s been this way for so long-- I have no reason to be like this--”

Janus wrapped him into a hug, and Patton finally disintegrated fully and completely into his arms, shuddering. 

He missed this. The feel of Janus’ arms around him, the way he smelled, the warmth and safety it had always given him, like the world wouldn’t dare touch them. He’d missed it so much.

“Patton, love, why have you let yourself suffer like this?” asked Janus, holding him tighter. 

Patton dragged a hand down his face, swallowing thickly. His emotions skittered around, intense enough to blind him but too fleeting to make sense of. The thoughts in his head spilled out of his mouth with all the control of water careening off a cliff.

“It should have been easy. I got the easy part. I got away unharmed. You were the one that got hurt, you were the one that nearly died.”

Janus stiffened. They hadn’t talked about that time at all since he’d moved in. They barely talked about it while it was happening. Maybe that had been the problem.

“When you were lying in that hospital bed--” Patton’s voice broke, and he couldn’t hold his tears back anymore. “You were so--so broken. Everything had fallen apart. And I knew I needed to be the strong one, for you.”

“Patton--” Janus started, his name taking on a frantic edge. Patton forged ahead. He needed to finish this, a certainty he knew but could not explain.

“You got the worst of it. And you were so inconsolable. It was so hard for you, and it broke my heart to pieces, seeing you in pain like that, and I never felt like I could do enough to help you,” Patton choked on a sob. 

“It should have been easy for me. All I had to do was take care of you. That’s what I always do, that’s who I am. But every day got harder and harder, and I couldn’t understand why. And we just--drifted away from each other.”

Patton didn’t know if Janus could even still understand him around the tears smothering his voice. His head felt light, and exhaustion ebbed at him. 

“And now, now you’ve come so far, and I’m so proud of you. But I’m still here. I feel like I never left those months after Thomas’ death. Every day I wake up and I’m still there. And I don’t know how to escape. I just wish I could escape.”

Patton sagged into Janus, too tired to care. His words had dwindled into a whisper. 

Janus didn’t loosen his grip, but he remained deathly still and quiet. Patton couldn’t see his face, and not even his breathing betrayed emotion.

“Why--” Janus started, his voice hoarse. “All this time...I thought--Why didn’t you say anything?”

He took Patton by the shoulders, pushing him back to look him in the face. His eyes searched Patton’s, his expression agitated.

“Why did you let me think you were okay?” he demanded. Patton blinked, taken aback.

“You--you were so broken up. You cried constantly, or went totally numb to everything. And you had to worry about all those surgeries and physical therapies, all that healing you had to do. There just wasn’t--room, for my silly little issues.” 

This was obvious to Patton. Janus could barely hold a conversation back then. He’d been in and out of the hospital for his injuries for weeks. Sure, time had passed and he’d gotten better, but it’d felt so fragile that Patton hadn’t wanted to jeopardize Janus’ hard-won peace. Not with his own problems.

Janus stared at Patton with a mixture of disbelief and dawning horror. 

Not sure what to make of that, Patton asked, “Is everything...okay?”

Janus buried a hand in his hair, staring wide-eyed at a spot only he could see. Slowly, he nodded. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I just--there’s a lot I need to think about,” he dropped his hand, and refocused on Patton with stern eyes. “But you’re clearly not okay. There’s nothing wrong with that, but you need to see someone.”

“Oh, I don’t know--” Patton began to protest, but Janus held up his hand.

“I mean it, Patton. Mental health is  _ your  _ health, and it’s way past due for a check-up.”

Patton chewed his cheek, looking away. He was right, and he knew it.

“Look, one of my neighbors is a therapist. I looked him up, because I was curious, and he’s got decent reviews. And if he’s living in my apartment complex, he’s cheap. His name’s Picani, I believe.”

Patton nodded, reluctantly. “Okay. I’ll call him.”

“Tomorrow,” Janus told him, standing up. “If you can’t do it for yourself...do it for me, okay?”

He leaned down and gently kissed Patton on the head. Something small and warm flickered to life in Patton’s chest.

“Okay.”


	20. Janus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Janus has to process some things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I skipped last week, half because of procrastination, half because this chapter is very emotionally driven and I had trouble getting that right without it feeling like an info-dump.
> 
> Edit: Oh fuck I almost forgot, happy birthday Patton! (even though you don’t appear in this chapter despite being heavily referenced throughout oops—)

Janus clicked the door shut behind him, lingering on the doorknob for a moment. After a fierce inner struggle, he surrendered, his reassuring mask crumbling. He pulled away from the door and wandered away in a daze.

Virgil met him at the top of the stairs, doing a double-take.

“Dude, are you okay?” he questioned, giving Janus a perplexed look.

A barrage of thoughts were whirling around Janus’ mind, but being called ‘dude’ by a fourteen-year-old was enough to damper them temporarily. He ran a steadying hand through his hair, realizing he was still holding his plate with his untouched sandwich on it.

“I’m going to take a walk,” he announced, thrusting the plate into Virgil’s hands. 

Virgil took it clumsily, staring at him in bewilderment. “Okay?” he said. “See you later, I guess?”

Janus nodded again, brushing past Virgil and descending the stairs at a clip. At the foyer, he shoved his feet into the first pair of shoes he could find, and exited the house without bothering to lock the door behind him. 

The late summer afternoon was warm and muggy, and the sun’s brightness competed with the turmoil in his head. When Janus’ feet hit the sidewalk, he set off, not sure where he was going, and certainly not caring.

Now that he was alone, Janus let his mind reel. He flipped frantically through his hazy memories of the months following Thomas’ death, searching for the signs he’d missed.

_ Patton sits at the kitchen table, parsing through funeral home pamphlets and local graveyards. The bulb above him is his sole source of light. His head is in his hands. _

That had just been stress, surely. Not despair. Patton was a sensitive soul; it didn’t take much to make him cry, but he wasn't crying then. He didn’t cry much at all in those months, come to think of it. He held himself together so well, so much better than Janus. Surely.

_ Patton drives him to medical appointments. Patton refills his prescriptions. Patton makes sure he ate, drank, slept as much as he needed. Patton doesn't do much of that himself anymore. _

Those months are foggy, clouded over by pain and grief. Janus had been so high-maintenance then, even if you weren’t accounting for the emotional meltdown. He’d felt guilty, for taking up all of Patton’s attention. But Patton never seemed to mind. In fact, he threw himself into it with an almost martyr-like zeal. Like he wanted it to take everything he had. 

_ “I’m here for you,” is Patton’s constant refrain. He doesn't go out with friends anymore, doesn't go to the farmer’s market, or knits colorful hats. It's always about helping Janus heal. _

Janus scoffed at himself. The red flags were all there. Cutting himself off from loved ones. Abandoning hobbies. Emotional numbness. Janus couldn’t believe he’d been so blind, so self-absorbed. He’d really believed Patton was doing it all for him, that Patton alone had escape unscathed.

He tripped over a curb in his distraction. Looking up, he took note of his surrounding for the first time.

Janus hadn’t been in this part of town for a while. It was an empty sort of busy, stuffed with faceless chain businesses where people did their best to leave as soon as possible. Even with parking lots full of glinting cars, Janus was the only person in sight. He tucked his head down against the beating sun, turning back to his thoughts.

He’d actually resented Patton, in the end. Patton, who stayed put together while Janus fell to jagged pieces. Why was it so easy for him, why didn’t it hurt him? Why was Janus the only one who couldn’t seem to move on? It wasn’t fair, he thought, that he should be the only one to shoulder the burden of grief. 

_ The silence suffocated them, in the end. There was nothing left in that house but the silence. Some key part of their connection burned up in that fire, and their relationship became achingly hollow, a mere pantomime of what it once was. Janus had stopped caring, and Patton seemed to care about all the wrong things.  _

The divorce was finalized less than a year after Thomas’ death. The death of a child. A classic. Janus couldn’t even remember what the inciting incident was, if there'd even been one. It was like they’d both been pulled into that attorney’s office by forces beyond their control. Neither of them protested. Outsiders would have called it amicable.

Janus reached an intersection, and stopped. He had no idea where he was, some inconspicuous corner with a rundown gas station to his left, a gleaming car dealership to his right, and the roar of passing cars dividing the two. He felt raw, like someone had opened him up and scraped away all his sickly emotions with sandpaper. 

Turning on his heel, Janus began a purposeful return back the way he came. He stuck his hands in his pockets as he walked. Patton’s testimony today was like a missing puzzle piece. It slipped into his mental framework and made a complete picture. He wasn’t sure he liked what it depicted.

He should have known better. He should have known Patton was hurting. His husband had always internalized things that were better left spoken. Communicating needs had been one of the biggest hurdles of their relationship. They’d had to learn how to be for each other, Patton more open, and Janus more intuitive. It should have occurred to him that Patton would fall back into bad habits in a time of such hardship. He never should have taken his cheery exterior at face value. 

Janus’ shoes scuffed the concrete as he turned the corner. He recognized this street. He hadn’t wandered very far. Taking a moment to orient himself, he set out for home.

Some of the old resentment gnawed at him, at the base of his stomach. It takes two to ruin a tango. What Patton did had been a desperate coping mechanism, Janus knew that. But it had hurt him. Patton had let him believe he was alone in his pain. He had failed Patton, but Patton had failed him too, when they both needed each other the most. 

Janus reached Patton’s street. The distinctive Victorian tower of his house rose above the neighbor's roofs, greeting him. He paused.

Patton had hurt himself too, in the end. They both deserved the blame. Or m aybe, neither of them did. 

Janus didn’t know if any of this changed anything. Any chance of reconciliation may have already passed. And if it did change something…

Maybe he should talk to Patton. When the time was right. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
